Facets
by balai
Summary: It was unfathomable. Imagine the rumours, the scandal that would spread at the idea of the Fire Lord sneaking about under the cover of darkness, donning the mask of the Blue Spirit. But he would do it. He knew the risks he took. Still, he would do it for her.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome! This is a collection of Zutara short stories that interconnect, but do not follow a set plot. This chapter takes place five years after the war ended and is the earliest installment. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction and therefore the author claims no rights to the original content.**

* * *

It was the dead of winter when the steel ship pulled into the small bay. This time of year, the small port was smaller than any other time of the year, and it was no time at all before the ice began to freeze around the vessel, trapping it in its place. A storm was raging, cold and bitter, and the sky appeared stark white and blended with the expansive tundra all around. Were it not for the dark waters sloshing against the ice, it would seem that the ship arrived at a place that was nothing.

The entire village had stopped their work when the quick-footed sentry had announced the arrival of the Fire Nation ship. Since the end of the war, every ship had arrived with a proper period of advanced notice. They knew ahead of time when any supply shipment would be expected, and were prepared to receive the crews accordingly. And as often as they traded with the Fire Nation in the warm seasons, never had a ship ventured this far south in winter. It was too dangerous.

Ever since Sokka had left for Kyoshi Island to be with Suki, Katara had been made the diplomatic representative for the Southern Water Tribe. It was her duty to greet every visitor and cargo ship at the bay, and to see that their needs would be accommodated during their stay. She was the liaison and oversaw any legal disputes with the other colonies and nations, and ten months of the year, she found herself traveling about the world to make sure her people were established and gained respect.

But this was her vacation.

They were deep into the winter season and this was HER time. The time she devoted to her people, to caring for her home, for helping the village prosper.

It was her time to relax, damn it.

Harrah, the sentry, had found her in the medical hut. Her hands were holding a warm cloth to her Gran-Gran's wrinkled forehead, and it took all her restraint to keep the cloth in her hand (and not throw it at his face) when Harrah had shouted unnecessarily loudly at her the news about the ship that was coming on the horizon.

Katara stood wringing her hands as she squinted to see through the thick snowfall blowing around her. Her entire body was tense as soon as the ramp was lowered. A handful of men stomped down onto the ice, carrying an assortment of crates.

Katara's boots would have crunched loudly through the snow if it weren't for the howling wind that masked all else. She walked up to the group of men and when they noticed her there, the soldiers halted, fumbling as they set down their supplies to respectfully bow to her, as Fire Nation formalities demanded. She returned the gesture, dismissing them to go about their business. They weren't there to provide her with information, but she set about looking for someone who could.

He strolled down the ramp casually, rubbing his hands together as his breath blew onto the gloved digits. Katara sighed and walked forward to meet him, stopping several feet in front of him. His strides slowed.

Zuko gave a small, unsure smile as he looked down at her face, flushed by the wind chill. She quirked her lips the slightest degree in return, and when he bowed to her, she merely crossed her arms and willed herself to not look as aggravated as she knew her face was portraying.

"Katara," he said at last in greeting. His voice had deepened since she last saw him. If he was upset by her rather cold reaction to seeing him, he didn't show it.

Katara exhaled loudly, her chest deflating as though the breath had held a physical value that she'd been aching to expel. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but why are you here?"

This time his face did falter. His eyebrow quirked in an aristocratic show of disbelief and his lips were pulled into a slight frown. "We haven't seen each other in five years and that's the first thing you say to me?"

Her voice caught in her throat. "I—I don't...it's the middle of winter, Zuko. You know it's far too dangerous to sail here during the dark months. Your ship has already frozen solid in our harbour and not only that, but you didn't even warn us you were coming!"

The wind was loud in their ears and the fur on their hoods whipped wildly in their faces.

Zuko's good eye narrowed. "Warn you?"

As though it were an invasion.

In an afterthought, her choice of word had a negative connotation that she hadn't intended in the least. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "We aren't prepared to take in a crew right now. A third of our village is ill and there's nowhere for your men to stay nor do we have enough food to go around."

The Fire Lord's face softened and he appeared slightly embarrassed. "I didn't take that into consideration. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience. I would say we'd take our leave, but as it is..." Zuko looked pointedly back at the cargo ship, trapped in its place by a rapidly thickening layer of ice.

The waterbender nodded, the same thoughts having crossed her mind since she spied the boat. "We'll come up with a solution. Your crew is small, so I'm sure we can provide temporary housing until we can come up with a better arrangement."

Zuko thanked Katara and she frowned when she noticed that the man was shivering. "For showing up unannounced, you could have at least dressed appropriately for the season. You're wearing summer attire."

He chuckled briskly and raised his hands to his mouth, blowing a stream of steam into his palms. "Here I thought I was going to appear overdressed." He looked over her thick coat and pants that completely enveloped her small frame, making her out to be more than twice as large as she was. "I'll be sure to dress accordingly next time. Maybe I'll wear all my coats at once."

She grinned. "I'm not sure that would be enough for you, firebender. Let's get you to the village before your limbs fall off."

Not needing to be told twice, immediately Zuko barked orders at the men. Mere moments later, Katara was leading the small troupe through the sheeting snow, the promise of a warm fire at their destination keeping their legs moving.

-/-/-

Their welcome was quick and half-hearted as the men reached the quaint ice village. Normally, the tribe would have prepared a feast in honour of the arrival, but with no time to prepare and so many of the villagers indisposed by illness, only a dozen were there to greet the travelers. Katara's legs sighed in relief when they finally arrived, but she pushed forth and verbalized her request for any able family to provide shelter to a member of the Fire Lord's crew. Once the matter was settled, Katara set off without a word to her old friend, knowing he would follow behind her regardless.

Zuko ducked into the large round igloo that Katara had disappeared into, pushing away the heavy sealskin curtain that served as a door. Instantly, he was met with a comfortable warmth and he shed his heavy outer coat, rolling it into a bundle in his arms. He'd visited this village in the South Pole twice before (excusing the raid when he'd first discovered the Avatar's existence) but he'd only been inside this particular hut once. At the time, he was delirious and fever-ridden and he had no memories of that part of his visit, so he looked about with curiosity, wondering at the layout of the large room.

It was a sick bay and cots lined the walls in a semicircle, blankets and furs spread around the icy interior. There were fourteen cots total, and Zuko noted that only four of them were void of an occupant. The rest held natives, ranging from a child that looked no older than five, to a withered man who looked old enough that he may have been an adult when the hundred year war began (he knew that wasn't the case, but it was brutally obvious that the man was advanced in age and he hadn't aged gracefully).

Katara knelt beside a bed to the end of the row over an older woman that he immediately recognized to be her Grandmother. She had shed her heavy parka and was wearing simple leggings with a long-sleeved tunic, obviously more than accustomed to the temperature. Her hair was longer than he'd ever remembered it and it fell in a single messy braid past her hips. Her mother's necklace clung to her throat, a grave yet fond reminder of the past. He'd never seen her face more drawn, more concerned, than she looked then.

Katara's Gran-Gran did not look well.

Zuko strode over to her side and knelt down at her side, watching as the young woman bent the water from the cloth she held and drew clean water from a steaming cauldron in the center of the room.

Her distracted (and somewhat abrasive) behavior made sense to him now.

"What's wrong with her?" If it weren't Katara, he might worry that one would take his tone of voice to be offensive. But she knew him well and knew that he meant nothing and simply asked the purest way he knew.

"She's been ill for two weeks. Her fever spiked the night before last and hasn't come down since. I thought at first it was colonial fever like all the others." Katara moved her grandmother's hand, holding it for the fire lord's inspection. "Then I saw this and assumed it was frostbite." They were blue. She set the woman's hand back gently onto the blankets. "But when I was changing her blankets out, I saw a bite on her leg. An ice crab bit her and she..."

Katara went silent and Zuko watched as she swallowed hard, as though she was forcing back a lump of something vile.

Her hands shook.

"If she'd told me sooner, we could have made anti-venom. It's common enough in the winter that we have the ingredients on hand. But she was so _stubborn_. She wouldn't tell anyone, not even Pakku. She scolded me when I found out, and she wouldn't talk to me for days. She's only in here because Pakku carried her in after she nearly fell into the fire in a fainting spell."

Zuko felt his heart go out to the young woman and sat awkwardly at her side. "Is there any way I can help?"

Katara sniffed and flicked away a tear that dared to sneak onto her cheek. She shook her head. "If we'd been able to get her the anti-venom immediately, she'd be fine by now. But ice crab venom is fatal. It's only a matter of time now."

"Does Sokka know?"

Again Katara shook her head. "I don't know how to tell him. Suki just gave birth to their second son and I'm sure he's stressed out enough about that. I just couldn't bear adding to it."

"He would want to know."

Katara knew that fact as well as he did, if not better. "I don't know how, Zuko." And he didn't have the heart to challenge her.

The water wasn't bringing down the fever in the least. Katara threw the cloth on the ground and sunk into her hands, breathing deeply as Zuko's meditation lessons had taught her to do. It was pointless. As hard as she tried, it was useless. Her Gran's fate was sealed and she was simply torturing herself with false hope.

Katara's face remained buried in her hands. "Why are you here, Zuko?"

Zuko's face reddened and he reached down to pluck at the dark brown fur lining of his boot. "Can't one friend simply visit another?"

She peeked at him through her fingers and he was nearly taken aback. He hadn't remembered her eyes being this blue.

"It's been five years since we last saw each other. There's a reason you chose now."

He sighed. "I'm running away."

That sparked a reaction from her. She sat up straight and gave him the most perplexed look he'd ever seen grace her face. "You're the Fire Lord. You're twenty-three years old. Why in the name of La are you running away? _What_ could you be running away _from_?"

The flush in his cheeks deepened. Katara thought that his face got any redder, he'd match his crimson tunic. "Katara. I'm twenty-three. I'm the Fire Lord. And I'm _single_. I have an entire council of advisors who are very persistently trying to remedy that fact."

She didn't speak for a moment, but her expression grew more and more skeptical. "You're running away because they want you to get married."

"Yes."

"You're _running away_ because your advisors are throwing attractive, single noblewomen at your feet and asking you to take your pick."

He grimaced. "Yes."

She balked at him, her eyes wide, her mouth twisted in bewilderment. "Zuko, are you mad? Have you gone_ insane_? They're dangling desirable women in your face and you run away?"

His voice came out weak and mumbled. "No one ever said they were desirable."

"Zuko!"

He threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. "They're noblewomen, Katara! Do you know what they're like?"

"I have met Mai and Azula." Her eyebrows stitched together. "Though I suppose if they're any example then you're right to run away."

Zuko would have laughed if they weren't talking about _his_ betrothal. "Those two are different. Fire Nation noblewomen are dull." (Like Mai, Katara thought but did not say). "They're prim and proper and you can't even have a real conversation with them. They fashion their entire personalities around pleasing you and making sure they say what will make you happy."

She rolled her eyes and stood, swiping her parka from the ground. "Oh you poor baby," she mocked. She stomped out of the igloo and Zuko followed behind her, his own coat in his arms.

The firebender caught up to her outside of the medical building. She walked fast through the snow with her head down and he stumbled a bit in his boots.

He put a hand on her shoulder, but she kept walking, him close on her heels. "I can't live with that, Katara. I can't wake up every day and share my life with a woman whose only concern is appeasing me. Whose only ambition is being the perfect wife and the perfect mother to my perfect children. I want a real relationship when I marry. I want to marry my wife because I love her. I don't want a marriage to a noblewoman who serves as a mindless trophy or some sort of prize pet."

"Isn't that how nobility works?"

He didn't understand why she was prodding him about the subject so. He shrugged. "Maybe so. But we're starting an era of change. Why can't I change this?"

Katara wanted to say so much to him, but instead she countered with, "So you ran away to the South Pole?"

Zuko shrugged again. "I wanted to visit you. Like you said, it's been five years."

Katara shook her head and shoved open the door to a large (in comparison to the tents and igloos scattered about the ice) wooden house, styled largely similar to those in the earth kingdom. He stepped in after her and looked around at the unique structure.

Katara didn't even turn to him as she explained, "This is the first home we've built here—Sokka designed it and built it almost entirely himself. There are plans to build more to accommodate the entire tribe, but he's been so busy the last couple of years that he hasn't had time to send the plans."

Zuko shut the door behind him and followed her into a room that held a large stone hearth and various animal skin rugs on the ground.

"It's a nice house," he commented quietly when Katara knelt down to stoke the fire. He would have lit it himself, but she took comfort in maintaining the flame to her comfort and he let it alone.

"You can stay in Sokka's room while you're here. Come on, I'll show you."

-/-/-

Gran-Gran passed away two days later.

Pakku held her in his arms as she lay in the medical hut. Her eyes were hooded but she tilted her head back, gazing up at him as she nuzzled into his neck. She spoke softly to her husband, her voice strong and sure despite the fact that she lay on her death bed and her body was frail.

Katara sat with her arms drawn tight around her knees as she watched from the other side of the room and she rocked in time with her heavy-beating heart. Her throat burned with the pressure it took to hold back her onslaught of tears and when Gran-Gran stopped breathing (her glazed blue eyes staring up into Pakku's) she still held back the tears. She couldn't look away and she didn't try. Moments later, tears tumbled down her step-grandfather's cheeks freely (and though he was prideful, he let them fall and did not wipe them away) and that was what broke her resolve.

Zuko came in and he held her in his arms as she rocked back and forth on the cold floor in the medical hut. She sobbed into his neck and by the time they separated, her fingers were painfully trained in the position of clinging to his tunic.

The blizzard waned in the dead of that night. Katara and Zuko were sitting outside her home staring at the stars when it ended.

Two days later, Zuko asked Katara to return to the Fire Nation with him as the official ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe.

Another two days passed and Zuko and his crew relentlessly fired flames at the ice encasing the ship. They departed solemnly that evening.

-/-/-

They stopped at Kyoshi Island on their way to the Capitol City.

The ship pulled into port and Katara glared daggers at Zuko. She swore she could strangle him.

She had explicitly told him she wasn't ready to see her brother and tell him about the death of their Grandmother. She promised him that she would write him as soon as they docked in the Fire Nation. And he had conceded, agreeing that it would be the most pleasant way to break the news.

But pleasant wasn't good enough for the young Fire Lord, it seemed.

That evening as they sat around a table enjoying mulled rice wine with her brother and sister-in-law, Zuko had leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"I did it for you."

She knew he meant reuniting her with her brother, despite her fear given their painful news. She knew that he felt it was what she needed (to be surrounded by familial love). He knew her well.

She was right, but Zuko knew in his heart he meant something else as well.

He fled from betrothal for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**HUGE shout out to Yin. I haven't gotten a review that has made me smile that much in a LONG time. I am so completely happy that you liked it, and thank you for taking the time to write such an awesome review. :)**

* * *

No one had been hurt.

That was the important thing, and it was the only thought on Katara's mind. _No one_ had been hurt.

But even as she said it, she sat shaking as she stared out over the turtle duck pond in the palace court yard. They were so carefree. They were calming. A warm breeze blew gently against her cool skin. She reached out a hand and bent a weak current that had the young ducklings swimming in a circle (relishing in the feeling that came from her element, from being in control of something so dear) and she sighed. Calm, that was all she needed.

But the calm didn't last. Like the calm in the center of a storm, it didn't last, and the comparison was nearly deafening.

Her head whipped to the side at the sudden outburst of voices. An entourage burst through the doors to the courtyard and if she'd been listening closer, she would have heard them coming for minutes, but she hadn't been listening. At the center of the six loud, frantic men was Zuko, his eyes zeroed in on her and his gait was fast and resolute. The men bustled around him, some of them waving their hands in the air, some of them walking in front of him as though it would deter him. However, everyone who bore witness to the scene knew better than to think it would really work.

"Hi, Zuko," Katara said before he had a chance to speak the first word. Her voice came out more as a grumbled resignation than a greeting, and the fact only spurred him on further.

"What—the—_hell_—Katara?" he halted not far from where she sat. He'd lost his nerve and threw his hands up, waving away the swarm of men that were only aggravating him further (they complied ever-so-quickly, given the deadly glint in his eye and the threatening set of his jaw). Katara didn't move from her spot, and she didn't look up at him (she didn't have to, to know he was literally steaming with rage).

Katara plucked the water from a small spot of grass in front of her and pressed her face into her knees. "I think you need to calm down, your highness." He couldn't get over the flat tone to her voice.

"Why didn't you come to me?" His voice was a deep growl, and he was straining to keep from shouting again. He couldn't believe her—he did _not_ need to calm down. In fact, he thought that in the circumstance, he was _under reacting_. For her benefit, of course (he didn't even think about the idea that overreacting would reflect badly on his reputation as Fire Lord).

Katara sighed and pushed herself to her feet. His eyes scanned her face and his scowl depened. "I'm a big girl, Zuko. I can take care of myself."

"That isn't the point! You—"

"I'm a master waterbender. I can defend myself. I don't need _you_ stepping in to fight my battles for me."

"That is _not_ what I'm trying to do—"

"It sure looks like it from here." She crossed her arms tightly refusing to meet his gaze—but she still spoke fiercely, sure.

"Then you need to open your eyes." He took two brisk steps and suddenly was grabbing her arm, bringing it out to inspect. Her upper arm was shades of black and blue, a dark bruise that matched the ring around her eye and the protruding lump on her jaw. "My own _general _attacked you _in your own home_ and you're telling me to calm down?"

Katara nodded her head once confident in her words. "I am. You're blowing this way out of proportion—"

"_No—I—am—not._"

The young woman sighed and this time, her voice was weaker and her shoulders slumped a fraction. "No one was hurt, Zuko. Just let it go."

He let her arm go. "How can you say that? _You_ were hurt."

She rolled her eyes. "I've been worse. A few bruises are hardly worth the fuss you're making. It's nothing."

"You were violated." He said it as a whisper, but his tone was harsh and unforgiving.

Her heart clenched and she had to drop her gaze from his. "Shut up."

Zuko continued, his voice rising. "And not only that, but he struck you and then made an attempt on your life. How can you say that is nothing?"

She wanted to walk away. "Because it doesn't matter. _No one was hurt_."

It was her mantra. It was the sole thought on her mind.

He hated those words and every time she repeated it, he saw red. "How can you say that?"

Katara was trying hard to hold back the acrid taste in her throat, and her eyes were burning and bloodshot. _No one was hurt_. A tear slipped from her eye and she quickly brushed it away, immediately squaring her shoulders once more, her chin held high. "Why are you making such a big deal over this?" The more he talked about it, the less she could deny it had ever happened—and _why didn't he understand that_?

"Besides the obvious answer that you're a personal friend of mine and you were _attacked_?" Zuko let out a deep breath—as if he needed more reason than that to be upset. He pinched the bridge of his narrow nose and tried to remember what it was like to feel calm. She was looking up at him expectantly—as if _she _really needed to hear his reasons. "You are a foreign diplomat and an honoured guest in our Capitol City. It is expected that you are shown the same respect as any acting member of the Royal council, if not more. As the Fire Lord, how can I expect to ensure the safety of my people if my own acting generals cannot be trusted? His dishonour disgraces not _only_ himself, but the entire Fire Nation and _I cannot allow that._"

She heard as clearly as day the words that he did not say: _he must pay for his crimes_.

Her memory whisked her away to a time years before when the two had spent days and nights under the cover of darkness hunting down another man who would never redeem his evil deeds that he had committed in her life. She could practically feel the magnetic pulse of his blood at her fingertips, she remembered every contortion of the _wrong_ man's spine as her hatred twisted and mangled his form. The memory of his hard brown eyes burned at her heart, and now a second pair of eyes with just as much hatred beneath their dank surface burned as well. The combination was as though her soul was being razed from within her very body.

Katara swallowed and met his gaze steadily. "No one was hurt."

And in her heart, she _wanted_ to hope that it remained that way. But her bitterness gripped at the kind intentions and crushed them with her pain that the man had inflicted.

-/-/-

Zuko had given it three days. Three days was the acceptable time that one waited for a fair trial. Three days was the permitted time that a criminal had to admit their wrongs and turn themselves in before a fair trial was negated.

General Tsu had appeared before the Fire Lord on the second day of those three to request a brief vacation to celebrate his fifteenth anniversary with his wife. Zuko's face was illuminated by large orange flames, but they did not shroud his personage as they had when his father sat upon the throne. General Tsu, had he looked upon the young Fire Lord's face, would have wished that they were. Zuko's hands folded on his lap and his eyes tightened. He granted the man two weeks paid leave and dismissed him.

On the night of the third day, Zuko excused himself from his game of Pai Sho with Katara at sunset, claiming to have a surplus of reports still left unread. Since the day he confronted her, she had been staying as a guest in the palace—he wanted to point out to her that she was less a guest and more of a resident as her own home had _mysteriously_ been burnt to the ground (but she didn't allow him to talk about the events of that night). She bid him a good night as he left, and he tried not to think about the drawn look to her eyes as he wished her the same. It was in vain, because he knew she had not slept since arriving at the palace guest house. She spent the nights in the court yard practicing her waterbending and he knew that he was not the only one who had noticed.

Though the doors to his suite were tightly locked, he still pushed a heavy chair in front of them. He walked through the adjoined rooms silently, his feet not making a sound against the floor. His dual dao swords hung above his bed, gleaming at him seductively.

He left, not for the first time, through the balcony. Dressed in all black with the swords strapped to his back, he pulled himself onto the roof and off the palace grounds without drawing the attention of a single guard.

It was unfathomable. Imagine the rumours, the scandal that would spread at the idea of the Fire Lord sneaking about under the cover of darkness, donning the mask of the Blue Spirit. But he didn't care one bit. It wasn't that he thought he wouldn't get caught (though with years of experience sneaking about, he was more than confident that he wouldn't) but rather his cause drove him despite the miniscule possibility. He knew the risks he took. But he would do it.

The house sat on a cliff beside the sea and the waves lapped loudly at the rock, spraying foam and mist up to the grassy ledge. The moon was bright and full in the sky and it illuminated the quaint house much better than he could have hoped for. The surroundings were so serene and breathtaking that Zuko almost wished he had asked Katara to accompany him, if only to show her the beauty that the Fire Nation could offer. (And if it weren't for the nature of his excursion, he would have brought her because he knew how much she would have loved the view.)

It had been too easy. The house hadn't made a single groan of protest as he climbed through the window and crept to the room in the back. Tsu's wife lay in the next room and never stirred. The general snored loudly, the sound like creaking trees bowing in a storm. The man didn't make a sound.

-/-/-

He hadn't told her.

Zuko returned to the palace as if nothing had happened and stowed the Blue Spirit mask in his hiding place. His dual dao swords were immaculately clean when he hung them back on the wall above his bed, shining like a polished plaque. He fell into his bed and slumber took him immediately, washing over the numb feeling that was gripping his stomach.

He awoke the next morning and dressed and moved the chair away from the doors. He strode down the hallways toward the dining hall and acknowledged each bow that he received. He was not in a particularly good mood, but neither was his mood foul. He entered the dining hall and took his seat at the head of the table and food was served before him. He ate silently, his eyes focused but his mind far away.

Katara watched him as he ate slowly and she barely picked at her breakfast. The dark circles under her eyes were intense, but the bruises that had marred her tan skin were beginning to wane. She sat straight and stared him down from across the table and she remained silent.

He hadn't told her anything. Their eyes met on one occasion during their meal and he did not look away. He didn't nod or give any indication of what he'd done. He looked to all the world that not a single thing was out of place, and he did not say anything.

But their eyes connected and deep within those blue pools, he knew that she'd figured him out long before.

-/-/-

That night when he retired to his rooms, he found a small vase on the table beside his bed. A single blue flower soaked in clear water, several buds blooming on the stem of the delicate bluebell. Zuko smiled at the flower. (He would have marveled that she had managed to sneak into his room unseen, but he knew her better than to be surprised by that.)

He hadn't told her, and he hadn't needed to.

The next morning, the palace was abuzz with gossip. The royal council was in a panic—some in an uproar—and the servants were walking about with ears too open and eyes too wide and feet more prone to stall than ever he could remember.

General Tsu had been found. Until that morning, no one had known he was missing. After all, the man was on leave celebrating his wedding anniversary. Or so they had thought. The council flitted about trying to sort out the ordeal—who would fill his position? What would they tell the troops under his command? How would they explain it to the _Fire Lord_? They had no idea who could have done it—his wife hadn't even noticed his absence, and when the fact had come to light, she'd fell into hysterics and hadn't been able to utter a coherent word since.

General Tsu had been found. No, General Tsu's _body_ had been found.

His head, however, was a entirely different story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone whose taken the time to read this. I hope you're enjoying it. Leave me a review and let me know what you think!**

**Oh. By the way, I was asked if these are in chronological order and, yes, they are.**

* * *

There were very few similarities between the Fire Nation capitol and the quaint village at the South Pole that Katara called home. Some days it was a shock to walk through the streets, but most days it was just fascinating. Though she missed her home, Katara was no stranger to travel and was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the Fire Nation (even despite the fact that it was so hot _all the time_).

The city was alight that night and Katara thought it was one of the most beautiful things she'd seen in her life. It reminded her of the winter auroras in the South Pole that glowed brightly in the sky at night. Where the auroras glowed in varying shades of green, blue, and violet, the lights that danced in the sky before her were a warm orange hue and it filled her with excitement.

Zuko walked to the fountain where Katara sat gazing out at the night. The square was crowded with people doing the same, and the firebender slid onto the cool stone beside her.

"Here," he said softly. He extended an arm toward her and Katara looked down at the thin paper cylinder he held. There were intricate designs painted onto the sides in faded shades of red and orange. As she took it from him (not quite astounded enough to question his sanity), she noticed that he held another with his other hand.

"They're lanterns," he explained when she continued to stare at it with a puzzled expression. He lit a small flame in his hand and held it underneath the lantern he was holding and her eyes widened as it began to glow. Zuko lifted his hands gently and his eyes followed it as it rose into the sky, joining the thousands that were already flying proudly.

Katara was staring in wonder.

Zuko chuckled, a soft smile lightening his severe expression. "What did you think they were?" He lit hers as well and she held it in her palms for a few seconds before slowly lifting it high, her arms lingering as if in longing as it drifted away.

Her voice was quiet. "I've never seen anything like it. I've seen every star the northern theatre has to offer, I've seen hundreds of winter auroras. I've even seen meteor showers and had one land ten feet away from me. But this is just…breathtaking." Her hands slowly folded in her lap as she watched the lanterns rise higher and higher. "What are they for?"

"We're celebrating the summer solstice. Every year at the beginning of the summer, we let the lanterns into the night to thank the gods for allowing us a season of continuous sun and restoring our health—you know, since firebenders draw energy from the sun. It's an old tradition to return the favor. We hold a similar ceremony at the end of the summer to show our appreciation so that the gods may continue to honour us with the warm season."

Katara was listening, transfixed and her eyes lit with golden light. He thought it was strange seeing her eyes look so close a colour to his own.

When she didn't speak, he filled the silence. "The festival lasts for a fortnight, so you'll probably be tired of it by the time it's over."

The woman shook her head. "I don't think I could get tired of this. It's amazing."

Faster than her eyes could register, a small spot of light flitted by her eye, landing on Zuko's hair. He immediately reached up and brushed it away.

"What was that?" Katara asked, looking around to try to find where it had gone. Three more small lights flickered and disappeared before her. "Is that a firefly?" She'd seen fireflies in the Northern Air Temple and what the swamp people called glowflies in the Earth Kingdom, but she hadn't remembered them looking like this.

Zuko stared at the small insect. They had always annoyed him, and though his mother had attempted when he was young to teach him to appreciate the small wonders around him, he never did grow fond of the small glowing pest. He shrugged a shoulder in an unsure gesture. "I guess they're sort of like fireflies. We call them lightning bugs though. Or sparkflies, in the west." She reached a hand out and a small bug landed on her palm. He frowned in distaste. "I wouldn't do that. They have a nasty tendency of setting things on fire."

She drew back her palm. It was scorching, as though a coal had fallen onto her skin where the bug had landed. A small burn was already in its place, but she didn't mind. It would be easy enough to heal.

"You don't seem to be very fond of them," she noted, watching the way he dodged around the flitting spots of light.

"They're a menace." He swatted away a bug that landed on his knee and after that they mostly kept away. "In the country a small swarm of them have devastated entire farms. They burnt down half of Ember Island once long before I was born." He didn't mention the summer when he was a child that he had to have his hair cropped because they had set his head on fire (though that was the more legitimate reason he disliked them).

Katara looked back up at the lantern show. "Is there a reason they're called lightning bugs?"

He found it annoying that the waterbender was so transfixed by the swarm. "It's an ancient fable, that's all."

She waited, but after it became apparent that he was going to leave his answer there, she grew impatient. "Come on then, what's the fable?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "It's just a boring old story that superstitious old bats came up with."

"If you weren't going to tell me, why did you even mention the fable at all?" Her look was flat. He knew that she would want to know. Katara loved hearing folk tales and fables from all sorts of cultures, and she'd told him during their travels that it was one of her favourite parts of traveling with the Avatar.

"It's just a dumb story, Katara."

"I'd still like to hear it."

He knew all to well, and finally conceded. With a huff, Zuko answered her question, his voice bored—he'd heard the story a thousand times growing up, and it was one of his least favourite in Fire Nation lore. "The story goes that the first bolt of lightning was the birth of the first lightning bug. They say that the fire god grew jealous of its luminescence and cast it from the stars, banishing it to earth. If you notice the way it flies, it resembles a lightning strike. The legend says that it burns everything it touches because it's trying to anger the fire god who banished it in the first place as retaliation for its banishment."

The last time uncle had told him the story he'd been banished himself. More than briefly, he'd considered doing the same in revenge against his father (of course his mangled idea of honour stopped him, but he'd thought so long about it).

Katara smirked at him. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

His good eye narrowed and he grumbled something out under his breath. Katara simply laughed at him and continued to watch the lanterns.

-/-/-

Firewhiskey was strange.

She'd had drinks from the Fire Nation before (how could she not, having lived there for several months before Sozin's comet?) but firewhiskey was so different from rice wine and spiced cider that the difference was stark. Her first drink of the amber liquid had left her coughing for ten minutes without reprieve. Zuko had laughed so boisterously at her that he too began to choke and cough on his own breath, and the episode left them both red in the face and gasping for air.

"You've been here over a year and you've never had firewhiskey before?" Zuko had to practically yell to be heard over the sounds of the ongoing festival, and to his _convenience, _a group of musicians struck out in song at the exact moment he started to speak.

Katara shook her head as she slowly lowered the cup from her lips. She didn't know not to hold the liquid in her mouth, and when she finally swallowed, she stuck her tongue out as though the warm summer air would somehow aid the burn that followed.

"Sorry, your lordliness," she gasped out. Her voice was raspy and he almost felt guilty for laughing at her intolerance of the strange drink. "I'm not a heavy drinker like you are. I actually _like_ my body being hydrated."

Despite his years of learning from the best tutors, he hadn't ever put the two together (and he felt a bit embarrassed that the waterbender understood the effects of alcohol better than he did).

"I think you just don't know how to let loose and have fun," he said. It was the best he could come up with, and it was a blind shot.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and scoffed. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

He stared blankly at her. He would _never _understand tea humour.

Katara sighed and rolled her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to finish the drink in her hand. She stood up off the stool she sat on, abandoning the foul drink, and extended her hand towards him. "Come on. Let's go dance."

A group of people had gathered just outside the small café they were sitting in. The cobblestone roads were illuminated by the soft light from the lanterns in the sky and the people had started dancing around each other. The way they moved together using their hands and fluid movements reminded her of the Dancing Dragons stance that Zuko and Aang had so proudly displayed after visiting the Sun Guardians. She'd danced in the cave with Aang while they were hiding out in the Fire Nation, and she remembered that it had been as easy to catch on to as learning a new bending move.

And sometimes, it was just as exhilarating.

Zuko gaped at her. "Excuse me?" He looked between her face, her outstretched hand, and the dancing crowd in the street. And _still_, he couldn't _comprehend_ what she was saying to him.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Dancing, Zuko. I know you know how to do it—you're the Fire Lord." He shook his head, still trying to understand what she was saying (and he could be just so _dense_ sometimes). The waterbender huffed and pulled on his arm. "You said I don't know how to have fun—let's go dance. That's _fun_."

It was beginning to dawn on him. "Katara, I don't dance."

"Yes you do. I didn't ask if you _wanted_ to. I said, let's dance." He still didn't budge. At last she dropped her hand from his and put her fist on her cocked hip. Her head tilted and suddenly, her expression was all taunting. "Or are you afraid I'll show you up?"

He didn't respond to her offer of fun, but she _knew_ he'd respond to a direct challenge (and he thought _she_ was the one who didn't know how to let loose).

That was all it took. His golden eyes narrowed stubbornly and Katara didn't have time to react. He threw back his firewhiskey and stood in one fluid moment, and before she could catch up to what was happening, he was pulling her by the arm, stumbling, out into the music-filled streets.

He was the _Fire Lord_. She was insane to think she could outshine him in a Fire Nation dance.

The music was lively and quick and Zuko didn't give her any time to adjust to the tempo before his feet began to move and he whisked her into the group of dancers. Their forearms locked against each others and a tight circle began the dance before suddenly, they were moving around each other as naturally as birds moved around each other as they flew through the sky.

When Katara had danced with Aang at his party, it had been choppy—she had never danced before (at least not anything that wasn't a style of the water tribes) and while it looked impressive, she was simply mirroring the motions she played out when she sparred. She hadn't been _sparring_, however, and she couldn't help but over think her every move.

This, however, was as though the music had come to life through them.

Their hands remained joined, creating the illusion that they were moving as one entity. Zuko pulled her in close and she dipped, under his arms she spun out until their arms were fully extended until it felt as though they were separated by a vast space. With a minute twist of his wrist, she was suddenly against him again, their bodies close enough that a thin sheet of paper could wedge between them. Her vivid blue eyes gazed up at him, alight with exhilaration and he could nearly see the overjoyed laughter spilling out of that simple gaze.

Back to back, they turned about each other, their fingers interlocked by a tender touch raised above their heads (the touch was less physical and more of a static sensation that was keeping them together). Katara could feel his breathing like the rise and fall of tide and when they parted—this time, the feet between them with no connection felt to last for eons—the light caught between their eyes was like electricity.

The pair paused, breath caught in each of their throats. Zuko's jaw twitched and Katara's chest rose slowly, her skin tingling with the magnetic pull of the dance. The music had waned in suspense, but neither noticed. Without warning, the waterbender and Fire Lord were moving again, inches apart without a hint of contact and the music picked up like a whirlwind, drawing them up as though their feet were insubstantial.

Zuko's arms were strong as she spun into him, her back pressing against his chest, and when she was in his arms, she dipped back, gracefully bracing his arm as she flipped herself backward onto the ground, her legs lean and languid with her skirt fanning through the air, and fell into a low stance. As she slowly rose (his hand lightly resting against her shoulder) their eyes met and when she was fully standing, her hand rose to his chest—as though gravity were pulling it there. Each of their gazes searched the others face, their breath falling steadily, and then the force surrounding them melted away, its only lasting existence in the hypersensitive feel on their skin.

The music played on, but a few onlookers stopped to applaud. A circle had formed around them where there had before been many dancers and now they stood alone in the center, her hand on his chest and his on her cheek.

But the magic had gone.

Katara blinked twice, thrice, and looked around them. Her hand that rested against him pushed ever-so-slightly, easing the pair apart and his fingers slipped from her cheek leaving her skin warm to the touch and his prickling at the loss of contact.

Zuko cleared his throat and bowed to her—as was tradition—and after she had bowed back, the pair walked off, through the gathered crowd. They walked no differently than they had any other visit to the city, but this time it was different. In their eyes, this time was imprinted to a memory— ingrained by a touch here, a smell there, the flickering lights cast across the night, the sting of firewhiskey on their tongue.

This time it was different because now the distance between them was tangible.

-/-/-

Her name was Akimi and she was lovely.

She was the granddaughter of the eldest fire sage on the Royal council, which meant she was highly respected nobility, as well.

Zuko's board of advisors was adamant that she was a perfect match for him.

He sat across from her at the formal dining hall and watched her closely. She sat demurely, her back straight and head held high. Her movements were delicate and precise and she chewed her food slowly, blushing when she noticed him watching her.

She was _very_ lovely, he would admit. Her skin was fair (though darker than his) and her hair was long, falling down her back in a sleek curl the colour of expensive coffee beans. Her lips were thin but naturally flush and the kohl that lined her almond shaped eyes looked pretty on her where on many of the other women he'd paraded before him the kohl outline looked severe and off putting. In fact, Zuko thought, it was her eyes that were probably her most alluring feature. They looked nearly glassy from here, and he thought that perhaps they were a light shade of grey—or maybe it was green—which contrasted nicely against her heavy lashes. She was tall and lithe and looked as if she'd never seen a day of hardship in her life. And if he was being honest, it was almost refreshing to meet someone so untouched by the world's harsh nature.

Yes, Akimi was absolutely lovely.

But she wasn't his perfect match.

She was so quiet that when he'd started up a conversation, he had to ask her to repeat her answer just so he could have small pieces from which he could guess what she had said. She giggled at his stories that hadn't even been funny and when he caught her off guard, her cheeks flushed a pale pink. She seemed perfectly kind and she had just returned from Ba Sing Se University where she studied ancient languages (he assumed that somewhere in there, she was very bright, but her years of nobility's mold shaping her into the 'perfect Fire Lady' had told her that she mustn't discuss intellectual matters with her suitors or her husband).

The pair finished their meal and he walked her to the door where her escort waited patiently for her return. He bid her farewell, bowing to her, and then he went his own way without looking back once.

His head advisor had stopped in on him that evening while he sat in his office pouring over colony reports and had asked if the Fire Lord would be pursuing the young woman further. He set down the scrolls and gave the man a flat look—it was a rather _personal _question and was fairly inappropriate of the man to ask—but gave him a simple and polite answer before waving him away in dismissal. The man looked disappointed and closed the heavy door behind him.

Zuko stared at the blank scroll before him and wondered when they were going to leave the matter alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**I've been re-reading this to myself (which is something I do a lot because I'm a perfectionist) and it's starting to bug me how lacking my skills are at character development. I'm doing much better than I thought I would at Zuko, but Katara's kind of lacking in my head. (I find this pretty ironic considering Katara's element is water which is fluid and yet she's fairly static in her personality, but at the same time, it is Katara, and she is stubborn.) So, I'm working on it, just bear in here with me, please, and I'll keep striving to improve.**

**Also, I just noticed that my ages are a smidge off (it's so strange for me to think that the entirety of the show took place over one year considering how much they changed the characters through the series) and if that bothers anyone, my sincere apologies. But I'm already in this far, so it's just gonna have to stick.**

* * *

Zuko slipped his arms under his head and stared up into the sky. It was darker than any night he'd seen in months though the stars were bright. He supposed that was due to the absence of the moon—and the absence of the moon was what he contributed to Katara's obvious fatigue as well.

He rolled onto his side (flinching when a large rock drove itself into his ribcage) and looked over to where the waterbender slumbered further away from the fire. They'd made good time earlier, so he'd had no qualms when she suggested they turn in early and take advantage of the cooling night. He hadn't cared so much for the idea of sleeping in such cold weather, but that was easily enough taken care of. He was, however, a bit put out when she kept inching further and further away from the flames until she was practically on the other side of the small clearing (he'd only been trying to make their journey more comfortable).

She was facing away from him—he didn't know if it was intentional or not—and her body rose with her deep breathing. For the last two days that they'd been traveling, she'd been quieter than he could ever remember her being. She'd made a point to always be no less than four strides in front of him—running ahead a few times if he began to catch up. He wondered internally if he'd done something to offend her (but then, she wouldn't have let him come if that were the case) or if it was simply her urgency to carry out their mission as quickly as possible.

Either way, it was causing his gut to churn nervously.

"Stop looking at me."

Her soft grumbled command shocked him more than he'd expected. "I thought you were sleeping."

She didn't move. Though he couldn't see it, her eyes were open and at his confession, they rolled dramatically. "Obviously I'm not."

An awkward silence fell upon their small camp. Somewhere far in the distance, an owl sounded brazenly, most likely swooping in on its prey. Katara wiped a lock of hair away from her face and Zuko rustled on his bedroll, trying to find a comfortable spot.

"Are you angry with me?" The young woman bristled. When she didn't reply, Zuko pressed further. "Did I do something to upset you? I didn't mean to, if I did."

Katara let out a long breath of frustration. "Aren't you too busy to be here?"

"What?"

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the stars. Her mouth was set in a grim line. "You're the Fire Lord—you have duties and responsibilities now. How is it that now—after _six years _of constantly being too busy to even let yourself sleep a full night—now you have the time to travel the world on another wild goose chase?"

"It's not a wild goose chase. You said you knew where he was."

"I said I have a lead. There's a _big_ difference."

Zuko shook his head, knowing fully that the gesture went unnoticed. "I don't understand why you're upset that I'm helping you look for him. I owe a lot to Aang."

"A lot of people owe a lot to Aang—the entire world owes a lot to Aang. But that doesn't mean they're out looking for him."

"Well, you're looking for him."

Katara opened her mouth to retort, stumped. "I—I have to. It's different." It was the weakest explanation she thought she'd ever come up with, but it was the best she had. She didn't know how to rationalize her insistence that she had to find Aang. It didn't quite make sense to her either, as she hadn't heard from the Avatar in over three years. But she knew—after all they'd been through, he would scour the earth trying to find her if their roles were reversed.

Zuko owed just as much to Aang.

"We both owe it to him, Katara. Isn't that reason enough?"

If she didn't want his company, she could just say it.

"No." Though she was exhausted, she felt entirely restless. "You have a nation to run—how could you just walk away from that?"

He sat upright and turned on her. "You think I walked away? I'm helping you save the Avatar—that's kind of more important right now."

"Well, I don't need your help." Katara rolled back onto her side, shutting him out emotionally.

"Katara, what's gotten into you?"

"I don't need a babysitter, okay?" She shouted the words at him and shot up, looking at him with fierce dark eyes and her hair matted around her face. She scowled and her hand pounded into the ground. "You treat me like I'm going to break in half if I do a single thing on my own—and I'm sick of it, Zuko. Ever since General Tsu, you've been trying to mother me—_but you aren't my mother_."

He lowered his eyes. "I just worry about you."

"Well, don't. I'm capable of taking care of myself."

Zuko sighed. "I _know_ that. Katara, you took down my rampaging sister, brought the Avatar back from the brink of death, and saved _my _life too. And even after all of that, you've been through so much and you didn't let it touch you. You're the strongest person I know. There's _no_ doubt in my mind that you can take care of yourself."

"Then why are you acting like this?" Her eyes were wide, expectant.

The Fire Lord ran a hand across his forehead, pressing at his temples in hope that the tension building up would wane. "I broke a promise to your brother."

"What promise?"

He spoke slowly, his voice low (the fact that he hadn't been able to uphold his promise to the warrior hurt his honour more than being shamed by his father ever had). "I promised him I wouldn't let you get hurt." Her brother had been so concerned last year when they'd shown up on Kyoshi Island and Katara had told him of her plans to reside in the Fire Nation. He didn't like the idea of her being in a strange land—literally out of her element—without someone watching out for her.

"That's not your promise to make." She understood why he'd made it—she was filled with deep respect for him because of it. But it wasn't his responsibility to look after her as Sokka always had. She was an adult—she was a _master_—and she could look after herself.

"Nevertheless, it's a promise I don't mind trying to keep."

-/-/-

Her lead had ended up being a dead end. The sailor hadn't ever seen the Avatar in person, much less recently. Zuko figured the man must have been living under a rock for the last decade, because when Katara had approached him on the docks, the man told her that last he'd heard, the Avatar had been killed in Ba Sing Se.

Katara wondered why her informant had sent her here. She didn't have the patience for this sort of misinformation nor did she have the time to be led around the world on fake leads. Even more than that, though, she continuously wondered why they'd come to _her_ when Aang went missing.

The sailor had turned them away and managed to pick-pocket Katara in one fowl swoop. He'd tried to do the same to Zuko, but the firebender caught on before he'd taken two steps and the sailor suddenly found himself lying on the ground in the fetal position, nursing his burnt leg in agony as his mouth hung open wide with a silent scream. Katara knelt down beside the sticky-fingered sailor as she retrieved the stolen possessions without a word. With how she'd been reacting to him lately, Zuko expected—and mentally prepared himself—for the onslaught of sharp-tongued chastising words about not using violence against _innocent_ people but it never came and she expressed her gratitude before the pair walked away.

Now they were wandering from town to town in the Earth Kingdom on their way to Ba Sing Se. In each town they stopped in, Katara excused herself for a brief time, disappearing through the market place and coming back with a new direction for them to travel. He wondered where they were heading, but her determined gait kept him from asking and he conceded to simply follow her instead.

It was when they were on the ferry that his patience finally ran out.

Zuko sighed in frustration. "Where are we going, Katara?"

Katara's gaze had been fixed out the window at the churning lake (keen eyes searching for the serpent that she knew stalked the water) but she turned to Zuko at the sound of his voice. She looked tired, no longer used to traveling for days on end with minimal time to rest. "I have another lead."

He smiled at her with concern, lips in a thin line. "Is this one actually going to turn out?" He hated the idea of her chasing after one lead after another with no results. He'd done exactly that after being banished with the task of finding the alleged Avatar, and he knew how wearing it could be to one's spirit.

But Katara nodded confidently. "I'm sure about this one."

He nodded—he respected her enough not to doubt her. When Katara was determined to make something happen, it always did. But there was still something about their mission that was bothering him to no end.

"Can I ask you something?"

Her dazed look was replaced by a sliver of amusement and she quirked her lips at the question. "You just did."

Zuko forced himself not to roll his eyes. "How did you find out that Aang was missing?" The last he'd known, Aang and Toph were busy restoring the Western Air Temple and though he didn't know how the progress was going, he was confident that Toph wouldn't have let someone just _capture_ him. It hardly made sense. If the Avatar disappeared on her watch, Toph would have either struck out after him on her own, or she would have come herself to ask for help.

Katara looked down at her lap with a frown. "You'll think it's crazy."

He snorted. "Try me."

She didn't answer him immediately. It was crazy even to her—and she'd seen so many _crazy_ things throughout her life, she wasn't sure if she should consider it as odd as she did. But as much as Katara was instinctual, her brother's habit of basing decisions around fact had grown on her, and she began to question her optimistic view years prior.

She plucked at the hem of her tunic, picking at non-existent stray threads that sullied the element-worn material. "The spirits sent me a vision. In all honesty, I don't know if it's true or not. He might not even be missing."

They'd been away from the Capitol City for two weeks, and _now_ she told him that it might be a feeble-based fruitless pursuit after all, like they'd both feared all along.

Katara continued. "I have to make sure, though. If he's not missing, I'll know he's safe. If he is, then we'll find him."

Zuko found himself nodding slowly, but he could feel the skepticism filling in where before there had simply been purpose and faith in Katara's cause.

He would see it through—for her.

-/-/-

Zuko was frozen in spot and he wished, for the first time since departing from the palace, that he hadn't come with Katara. The heady aroma of fresh brewed herbal tea filled his senses (the sense of déjà vu that erupted from the scent was absolutely unintentional and unwanted). He glanced back at Katara as she passed him, briefly placing a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of support—but not enough support to let him turn back. She sauntered into the shop and leant up against the counter, flicking delicately at a small crystal wind chime that hung beside the white curtain near the kitchen.

Normally, the annoying hostess his Uncle hired would have greeted them at the door, but Zuko supposed his uncle must have allowed her to go home early (as it was well past dusk and most shops in the upper ring were closing down for the night—but his Uncle insisted that it was only his service to the people of the world to serve tea late into the night).

He couldn't seem to will his feet to move him from the doorway.

The white curtain leading into the kitchen pulled aside as Uncle Iroh pushed his pudgy, flushed face through the gap, smiling brightly in greeting. "Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon!"

Katara smiled at him. "Hello, Iroh." She bowed in greeting and the old man's eyes widened in joy.

"If it isn't my favourite waterbender." He looked past her to his nephew frozen in the doorway and Zuko _swore to Agni_ that the old man's face was a fraction from splitting in half. "And I see you brought my favourite nephew with you, as well."

"I'm your only nephew, Uncle," Zuko mumbled. (Iroh pretended not to hear it since it was bad manners to mumble under one's breath.)

Iroh came out through the archway to the kitchen and wrung his hands on white towel. "Don't linger in the doorway, Fire Lord Zuko. Why don't you come in and have a seat? I will make us all some hot ginger root tea so we can catch up."

Zuko's feet dragged behind him as he slowly entered the tea shop. "Unfortunately, Uncle, this is not a social visit. We're here on business."

The former general looked between the two benders, one brow raised speculatively on his otherwise happy face. "What sort of business could you have with an old man like me?"

Katara chuckled. They were all aware of his involvement in the White Lotus Order, but Iroh was always so determined to play the part of an insignificant elder—just simple Uncle Iroh with his simple but prosperous tea shop in the humble city of Ba Sing Se. "Actually," she explained, "we're meeting someone here. The Jasmine Dragon was the safest place I could think of to hold the meeting."

At the word 'safe', Iroh's face drew grim, the happy light from the surprise visit suddenly being extinguished and replaced by something colder. "In such a peaceful time, sanctuary is not a difficult thing to find. If I may ask, what is the nature of this meeting? It wouldn't have anything to do with the roguish Blue Spirit, would it?" Katara could not decipher the stare Iroh had pinned his nephew with when he voiced the question, and Zuko's emotionless face gave no indication either.

"To my knowledge," Zuko responded smoothly (only Uncle Iroh who knew him so well could detect the cutting edge to his otherwise cavalier tone), "the Blue Spirit hasn't been seen since the world was at war."

"Spirits are known to dwell most frequently where they may do their work without being seen, but when provoked, they care only for their cause and anonymity becomes a trivial matter."

Zuko and Iroh both watched each other closely. Katara took in the tense stance the Fire Lord portrayed and the hard set of his jaw—and decided a topic change was well called for (though she filed the interaction away for questioning at a later time).

"Actually, we're meeting with someone who can help us find Aang."

Iroh's entire body relaxed suddenly and it almost looked like he melted from a stranger back into the man they knew. He stroked the hairs on his chin and looked concerned. "I was unaware that the young Avatar had gone missing."

"It's not something the world can comfortably be informed of at this time." Zuko's answer was diplomatic and carefully worded—he had spent a great part of the trip trying to figure out how he would handle the situation if they didn't find Aang. What he said rang true, and Katara realized that Zuko wasn't simply with her to watch after her or repay a debt to Aang; he was doing his duty as the Fire Lord to prevent the world from falling back into chaos.

"He may not even be missing," Katara amended for the sake of the old man. "But finding him is the surest way to discover if he was ever lost."

Uncle Iroh nodded. "That is indeed true." Iroh heard the whistle of his kettle in the kitchen, alerting him that the tea was ready to serve. "It seems I must tend to my tea. But I insist that you two stay here with me during your visit to town—I will not have family and friends staying at an inn."

Katara smiled to him. "Thank you, Iroh. We are most appreciative of the offer."

Iroh winked at her. "Anything to help a beautiful young lady." Zuko's flat look was interpreted quite expertly and his Uncle laughed. "And, of course, my dearest nephew whom she is traveling with." (Zuko muttered again under his breath that he was the man's _only_ nephew, and again Iroh chose to ignore the statement.)

"We will catch up later, my friends." The squat man bowed to the travelers. "I hope that your business associate turns out to be most helpful. The absence of the Avatar is indeed a grave matter." Iroh took his leave, returning through the long curtains into the small shop kitchen.

"He's right," a drawling voice came from the back corner of the shop. Both Zuko's and Katara's heads whipped around to the newcomer. "A missing Avatar is _highly_ concerning."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Jun."

Jun smirked and pointed at the Fire Lord with a flourish. "Fire Lord fancy-pants. Nice to see you again." She brushed the curtain of dark hair back. "I see your girlfriend's still sticking around—you must be doing _something_ right."

The look Zuko gave her tasted sour.

Katara groaned. "_Still_ not his girlfriend."

The bounty hunter shrugged, her grin playing smugly at her lips. "I really don't care."

Zuko bristled. Smoke blew from the palms of his hands and he tried his childhood trick of counting backwards from ten. "Then _why_ do you keep bringing it up?"

"It amuses me how easily it gets you steamed up and bothered." Her eyes even twinkled in amusement. At last, though, her physique shifted into a more professional attitude, her long, pale hands folded atop the table. "Now, before I get old enough that your Uncle's advances feel flattering, why don't we get down to business."

-/-/-

"What do you mean you won't take us to him?"

Katara couldn't believe what she was hearing—_Jun_ was turning down a job. A _well paying_ job at that.

"Exactly what I said. I'm not taking the job."

Zuko's fist slammed against the table. "When did you develop a sense of loyalty?"

Jun laughed. "It's got nothing to do with loyalty. I won't take you because it would be a breach of my contract."

"What contract?" Jun had never been one to work under the strict rules contracts set—she preferred to do things her way, not caring what happened as long as her end goal was accomplished.

"One that just made me richer than I've ever been in my life; rich enough that I could retire now if I wanted to." She shook her head in laughter and raised the steaming tea cup to her lips.

Katara still hadn't backed away, and the waterbender put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing angrily. "We're willing to pay."

"You wouldn't have sought me out if you weren't." The bounty hunter shrugged. "Regardless, I've got a contract. I'm not dumb enough to break it."

Zuko eyed her apprehensively. He'd made deals with Jun before and the fact that her employer had felt the need to write up a legal contract unsettled him. "How does helping us track down the Avatar interfere with your contract?"

"Because," Jun said aloofly. Her hand waved in the air, as if presenting an obvious truth. "I'm the one who captured him in the first place."

The tea shop fell silent—Katara balked in disbelief, Zuko kilted back in surprise.

Jun's eyes snapped up to Zuko's over her tea and her red lips painted a wide smile across her pale face. A dark eyebrow quirked cockily—"That's right. Jealous, your highness?"


	5. Chapter 5

**M'kay. I lied a little bit. The last chapter, this one, and the next (and from glancing at how much I'm writing, probably the next too) will sort of be a four-part mini story of their Aang rescue adventure. The rest, however, will be a little less fluid.**

* * *

The bluffs of Juu'zhen were immense. They extended over a mile either way in a crisp crescent shape (much like the bay outside of Ba Sing Se), jagged, weathered, and merciless. The bluffs were so high that in years past, vast clouds had shrouded the ledge they held high above, but a heavy drought had long since sucked every last bit of moisture from the area, leaving it barren and hazardous. Where an enormous saltwater lake had once carved away at the bluffs, nothing but cracked and dry earth remained. There was no sign of life; not a cactus, not even a tumbleweed (there weren't even any bones to suggest that life was once there at all). Dust blew about in the air, coating the entire place in a dry heat that caked into the skin of anyone daring enough to venture to the remote region of the Earth Kingdom.

There was no way around it. Beyond the barren crescent bay, canyons stretched further than the eye could see. When the place was an oasis, they had lead way to strong torrential waterfalls that flowed into underground caves (and there was even an ancient legend of a great city carved into one of the stone caverns).

With the clouds gone, the bluffs were a sight to behold—a petrifying sight to behold. They extended so high into the dull grey sky that their peak was nothing but a wavering line, unsure and woozy in the gleaming sun.

"So…" Zuko's mouth held the shape of the word long after his voice had run dry.

Katara nodded, looking up at the impending, inescapable cliff face. "Any ideas?"

His eyes were locked in front of him, and the sheen of sweat that was erupting from his skin went unnoticed. "I have _one_."

Her lungs concaved when she sucked in dry air, waiting on baited breath for his idea to spring past his lips. Her heart beat rapidly, like a hundred feet pounding the ground at once. She was terrified—given the circumstances, she couldn't imagine how _any_ idea would be a good one.

He seemed to notice she was waiting for him to speak. "Okay." In the corner of his eye, he glanced her way. "I think we should turn back and strangle Jun for bringing Aang here in the first place." And he was being serious, she could tell—even though a nervous laugh bubbled in his throat (begging to be released), he was _mostly_ serious. But only mostly.

She laughed once, a high, hysterical sound bursting through the silence. Her big blue eyes were wide with worry and bloodshot with fear. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

Not a trace of sarcasm tinged her voice.

Back in the Jasmine Dragon after Jun had _so proudly_ boasted that she'd captured Aang for a paying customer, both Katara and Zuko had burst with rage. It was enough that she'd admitted her part in the abduction, but the addition of the cutting taunt at Zuko's past—it had thrown them both into a deep fury. Jun's bold smile still painted across her face, she hadn't had a chance to even blink. Her steaming tea erupted into her eyes and she hissed in pain just as the tea froze over, rendering her blind. Jun's chair fell back as she clawed at her frozen eyes, but burning hands hoisted her into the air—her toes barely skimmed the ground.

'_Where—is—the—Avatar?'_ Zuko had hissed lethally. Smoke poured from his nose mere inches away from her face.

The bounty hunter spit in his face. _'Get bent!' _She'd tried to reach up to claw at her frozen eyes, but at the movement, she suddenly found her arms paralyzed—feeling hard like stone and _burning_—and the ice on her face grew colder until it bit into her skin and she cried out in pain.

It was almost a relief when Zuko's hot hands released her forearms—at least then she'd have a better chance of getting this _bending shit_ off her face—but the relief didn't last. Her body contorted as it was suspended high in the air (she thought that maybe it was the ceiling her head hit, but that couldn't have been it), Jun let out a groan when a cold, blazing sensation filled her very blood.

Zuko glanced towards Katara (her stance hadn't changed other than her arms extending out towards the mercenary and her face was shrouded by something dark and sinister and _wrathful_) and when he looked at Jun, her translucent skin was taking on a chalkier, almost blue tinge.

_Katara was freezing her from the inside_.

'_I believe that he asked you a question,'_ the waterbender had snarled, her hands keeping the woman high in the air and mangled in an odd position that couldn't have been comfortable. _'And I'm confident that you're more than capable of providing him with a satisfying answer—you still have your tongue, after all.'_ And Katara was more than willing to remedy the fact if she didn't comply. The threat was loud and unspoken, ringing in the ears of the bounty hunter.

Jun's teeth ground down painfully.

Zuko watched a drop of blood ooze out from the corner of her mouth. _'I think it would be a good idea to give us the information we want, Jun. You're angering a master bloodbender.'_ He'd only seen her bloodbending at work once before—and while that had been shocking, this display had filled him with alarm. Katara could truly be terrifying when she had her mind set on it.

Now, Zuko stared up at the bluffs—the bluffs that Jun had finally given them directions to (after her fingers had twisted backward and her legs had gone blue)—and he sighed. A depressing realization hit him hard and he realized that they'd have to come up with a solution sooner or later. They'd come too far to turn back and besides the fact that Katara's stubbornness would never allow them to return empty handed, he knew that finding the Avatar was essential to the world.

Sometimes he despised Aang for being so vital to the world (but only because the kid had an uncanny knack of getting himself into perilous situations).

The waterbender looked up at the foreboding rock structure in disdain. "How did Jun manage to get up there? Her shirshu couldn't possibly be able to climb this."

Zuko was almost sure, looking up, that the higher the rocks went the more overhung they became. "I'm fairly certain that whoever paid her had something set up."

Katara considered it. Perhaps it was an earthbender—but then again, what earthbender held such animosity towards the Avatar to go to such extreme lengths? She groaned. "What I wouldn't give to have Toph here right now."

"I'd even settle to just _be_ an earthbender right now." Sizing up the distance to what he _hoped_ was the top, Zuko frowned. He didn't even want to be a master earthbender at the moment—even being a novice would make their odds better.

"So in all seriousness," Katara looked at Zuko, wiping the moisture building at her brow, "What are our options here?"

He looked her over, taking in what she had to work with. A seal water skin hung at her hip. He pointed to it. "How much water do you have?"

Katara shook the sac around, weighing it in her hand. "Nowhere near enough to do any useful bending. Besides," She raised a hand to her eyes and squinted up at the blazing sun. "We're in the driest region in the entire world. We're going to need all the water we can get—I can practically feel myself _evaporating_."

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed the heat—he just didn't feel it as dramatically as she did. He could fare well in heat but Katara was a native of the sea and ice. He looked at her (her skin had darkened during their travels, and now she appeared almost burnt as the water she required so dripped from her skin). She was literally a fish out of water.

And his firebending would provide them no help at all.

He slowly considered his next words. "What's your opinion on heights?"

Katara looked from him to the bluffs and back. Perhaps it was the dry air getting to her, but she couldn't fathom his intention behind the simple question. "I traveled around the world on a giant flying bison. It's not my _favourite_ thing, but I'm no stranger to heights."

"Good," he nodded at her affirmation. That was one less thing to worry about. "We need to lighten up our load." She stared at him in confusion and he pointed to the pack she had flung across her back. "We're going to have to ditch a lot of our stuff and travel with only things we absolutely need." He dropped the bundle from his back and began to pick through it with determination. Katara lowered her own to the ground but watched him rather than sorting through her things.

"Why are we doing this?"

He slung an extra tunic around his chest, tying it around his torso to form a makeshift bundle that he began to pack with light things they'd need—food mostly. When he was satisfied, he stood tall and threw the conical hat off his head. "Scaling a cliff isn't easy if your own load is dragging you down."

Katara's eyes went wide and her hands flew away from the pack, as though they had been struck by lightning. "Sorry; doing _what_?"

He _had_ to be joking.

Zuko stalked over to the rock and tested out a few rocks, insuring that they were strong enough to support their weight.

"Zuko?" Her voice rose an octave when he didn't respond.

The Fire Lord looked at her over his shoulder. "Katara, honestly. This is the only option we have at this point." He bent down and pulled a blade out of each of his boots. They were oddly shaped—the handle was thinner than the blade, which was thick and came to a fine, curved point. Zuko passed the knives to her. "Here, you'll need these."

Katara looked down at the knives. "What—are these for?" She was shaking at the thought of climbing the endless cliff (and him handing her a pair of what seemed to be some sort of dagger didn't help her nerves ebb).

"I use them for climbing." He fastened the straps that held his dual broadswords to his back. "A lot of the cliff face is rock, but some of it just solid, dry earth. You can sink the blades into the earth and it will give you enough support to climb up. Just make sure you drive them in securely." She was lighter than he was and the blades hadn't failed him yet.

Katara had been stunned into a silent trance. She swallowed back the saliva that sat in her mouth with an acrid taste. "We're really climbing up _that_?"

"Unless you can come up with a better idea right about now, yes."

Her face paled, though burnt and darkened by the constant exposure to the sun. She felt faint. "We're going to die, aren't we?"

Zuko's eyebrow rose. His eyes were flat and his lips pulled into a smirk—it took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was teasing her. "Only if you let go."

And then he walked up to the cliff and started up the eternal ascent. Katara watched him climb, frozen in spot, until he was high enough up that she couldn't have reached out to touch him if she were standing on Appa (standing there at the base of the rock, she missed Appa more than she ever had in her life). She swallowed hard and followed his lead, slow at first, her footing unsure. Katara cleared her mind, focusing on breathing, focusing on keeping her hands from shaking.

"Oh, Katara?" Katara squinted up at Zuko through the dust and sunlight. He was hard to see, but she'd never mistake the white smear of his smile. "_Don't_ let go."

-/-/-

Night had fallen heavily. There wasn't even the ease of a sunset for the travelers that clung to the very side of the bluffs of Juu'zhen. It had simply been light one minute, and dark the next with the moon glowing brightly against their backs.

Despite the moon being at large, Katara had never felt less powerful. She'd been exhausted before—but this was a new level of fatigue.

"Zuko, stop." Her voice was hoarse. Zuko halted a few feet away from her and she saw his muscles straining to hold himself in the awkward position. Katara's forehead fell against the rock face, her eyes drifting closed (she was so _tired_ and her body hurt everywhere). "How much further do we have to go?"

He clamped his eyes shut tight. Zuko looked up in the darkness at the endless cliff that they both clung to for their very lives. He wouldn't look down to see how far they'd come (vertigo could be fatal at a moment like this). He sighed and every muscle in his body contracted before expanding slowly—shaking. She wasn't going to like any answer he had for her at this point. Lying to her was out of the question.

"Still a long way. If we keep moving, we might make it by sunrise." Or midday, depending on how far it _really_ was.

Katara's face contorted painfully. "I don't know if I can keep going for much longer. Isn't there a shelf somewhere that we could stop and rest on?"

Zuko had been searching for exactly that for the last two hours. "There's nothing. You can do this, Katara. You've just got to keep moving."

Every inch of her screamed at the thought. "What if I can't make it?"

"Then I really will go back and strangle Jun after I rescue Aang and beat the crap out of him for getting himself kidnapped at twenty years old." Zuko shook his head—both of those ideas sounded far too appealing to him at the moment. "You're going to make it, Katara. You're the strongest person I know." No way would a _cliff_ be the end of her.

But Katara wasn't so sure that she was strong enough to endure this. She felt like she was a sponge that had been wrung out, completely devoid of a single drop of moisture.

They started to move again. Katara swore she was going to crumble into a million pieces any second—and though Zuko wasn't fairing much better, he kept it to himself. "Zuko, will you do something for me?"

Though he was focusing as hard as he could on his climbing, Zuko paused to look down at the young woman. "What's that?"

Her voice was weak. "Tell me a lie."

Zuko's brows knit together—he'd swore to himself long ago when he joined up with the Avatar that he would never lie to her and he'd yet to break that vow.

But he could hear desperation in her plea, and he could hear her heavy breathing though they weren't even close enough to touch.

He decided he would break his own rule only once. Only for her.

"Just a little further. We're almost there, Katara."

-/-/-

It had been a lie, but Katara was still grateful that he'd said it. In her head, she'd focused on the thought the entire way up—they were _almost_ there.

They had climbed all night and now the sun was dimming again in the desert sky, marking the end of another day.

And their bodies were on the verge of physical exhaustion (if they were being honest, they'd far surpassed that point hours before, but the looming promise of death were they to give up kept them going on numb limbs and heavy eyes). Katara spasmed with every slight movement and Zuko was breathing hard to keep his legs from wobbling.

This time, when Zuko promised her that they were nearing the top, he was almost _sure_ he was telling the truth.

"Zuko," she panted out, "you don't have to keep telling me that. It doesn't matter anymore at this point." Her mouth was dry and all she could think about was getting to the top and drinking _so much water_ (her moral mind told her that she'd have to share with Zuko—and while she fully intended to, a small part of her just wanted to tell him off and drink it all).

His chest rose and fell with exertion. "I'm being honest this time." He strained to lift his head and breathed out a thankful puff of air. A serene smile graced his lips. "I can see the edge." At the very least, it would be a ledge they could stop on, but Zuko was _positive_ it was the end of their climb. Sunlight kissed the abrupt line, and there was obviously nothing higher up to hinder his view.

Katara lit up with hope. Her fists drove the knives into the cliff face with a new found energy. "Zuko, that's literally the best news I've ever heard in my life."

Zuko's hand gripped the ledge and his eyes widened. "Katara, we're here. We made it!" His foot scrambled for purchase on a rock halfway between where he balanced and the safety of the plateau above. He was so focused on his footing that he didn't notice the shadow that cast down on his face.

The waterbender's voice was meek. "Zuko…"

A spiny pale hand wrapped around his wrist. His eyes snapped up and his face drained of colour.

"You look like you could use a hand." Clawed nails bit into his skin and a strength that he didn't expect pulled him away from his hold on the rock until he was face-to-face with the crouching woman. Azula's eyes were sharp, her lips curved into a sneering grin. "You're late, Zuzu. It was very impolite of you to keep me waiting."


	6. Chapter 6

Waking up from a bad dream was never a pleasant experience for Zuko. When he awoke from a pleasant dream, he would allow himself to linger in sleep, grasping at the memories he had of it and hoping that he could will himself back into sleep to let it continue. Pleasant dreams always put him in an exceptionally good mood (Ty Lee had remarked once that where his aura was usually a deep red, on those mornings his aura was exceptionally yellow—but not lemony, she'd assured him earnestly as though he had the faintest clue as to what that meant).

His darker dreams, however, put him on edge for several days. Those mornings, his body would lock up and though he wanted to snap his eyes open to assure himself that it was _just a dream_, his subconscious sucked him in, pulling him back into the very scene he wanted so hard to escape. His eyes would jump about as though in a frenzy, but they refused to open and Zuko's breathing became laboured as he fought tooth and nail against his own mind. Those mornings, when he was finally able to pull through, he awoke in panic and some days confined himself to his chambers and his office until the sensation waned.

Zuko felt himself come into awareness as though he had been in a nightmare. He saw nothing behind his eyes but dark hues, but they sank into his very heart with heavy and disturbing intent. He could hear his surroundings before he could see or feel anything, and what he did hear only increased his anxiety.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." Azula was speaking low, but he could tell she wasn't far away from him (he was sure she was speaking to him). He didn't know if he was lying down or propped against something—his head was so disorientated—but he was incredibly uncomfortable and his leg had no feeling. His sister's voice growled a bit. "It would be so _easy_ to kill you now; to strike you dead with the lightning that my idiot brother saved you from so many years ago. But if I did that now, what would I achieve? You're insignificant now—just a _water peasant_ no one would miss."

His eyes opened slowly and he was dismayed to see that it was dark where they were. A strange white light illuminated what he was gradually recognizing to be a cave. His sight was sideways, and he knew then that he was lying down. To his left, he recognized Azula's feet pacing to and fro and when he focused his eyes, he realized that Katara was propped against a wall further back, her hands and feet bound together with thick rope. The waterbender glared up at Azula with all the force she could muster, and he noted the dark rings lining the underside of her eyes. She didn't say a word to the Princess, though Azula had purposefully left her mouth uncovered with the intent of taunting her into madness.

Zuko groaned and pushed himself up, straining just to sit straight. On screaming muscles, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling back against a warm, dry stone wall to keep himself up. "Azula," he rasped. He cleared his throat and spit out a mouthful of blood. His mind was finally starting to catch up to his surroundings.

His sister spun to face him. The white light highlighted her insanity and the fire in her eyes glowed with ill intentions. "Zuzu, you're awake. Good. I was so afraid I may have hit you too hard with that rock."

That explained the pounding in his scull (he refused to give her the delight she'd feel from watching him nurse his wound). He took a step forward, testing his legs. "You're the one who abducted the Avatar."

She looked at him like he was stupid. "No, Zuzu. I'm the one who paid that annoying bounty hunter friend of yours to abduct him. It was far too easy—no fun at all. All I had to do was threaten her pet with my lightning and she gave in fast enough that I didn't even have time to warm up." (Jun was definitely no friend of his.) She shrugged and raised her hand to her view—clawed fingernails glinting viciously. "I prefer not to dirty my hands."

Zuko started walking towards her and he knew Azula was disappointed that he had the energy to stand. "That's not it at all. You wanted the mystery. You wanted to build up suspense by sending us after false leads and make fools out of us by keeping us wondering if he'd ever gone missing in the first place. You made Jun submit to a contract because you knew that we'd ask her for help and that we'd go to extreme lengths to get the information from her when she refused because of your contract."

Azula clicked her tongue at him. "You tortured poor Jun for information? Zuzu, how unlike you. That's was a horribly cruel thing to do. Especially since the only contract I made with her was that she'd see to it that you knew where the Avatar was taken."

The Fire Lord's eyes narrowed at his sister. He wanted to feel surprised, but at this point nothing she did could shock him—and this was exactly something she _would_ do. "Where is Aang?"

She pouted. However good of an actress as she was, she had never been good at disguising her purpose in her eyes. "You're so serious, big brother. Are you trying to make me think you're not enjoying our reunion?"

Katara let out a single humourless burst of laughter.

"I'm having a wonderful time," Zuko replied dryly. "In fact, it's so much fun that I thought Aang might like to join in on our chat. The more the merrier, as they say."

Azula shook her head. "You were never witty, brother. Nevertheless, it's no skin off my nose to show you the Avatar." She ran her hand across his back, coming to rest on his shoulder, and his skin prickled ill at ease. "It's not like you can do anything to _save_ him anyway." Her fingers clamped down on his shoulder and she forced him to turn around. "There's your precious Avatar, Zuzu."

Sure enough on the far wall behind him, Aang hung suspended by his hands and ankles with thick chains on the wall—if he was correct, it looked that the chains had been part of the cave long before Azula had taken it as her base.

Suddenly, the strange light made complete sense to him. Aang's eyes were wide open, glowing brightly along with the tattoos that covered his body.

Azula's arms were crossed and she tilted her head as if she were appraising a work of art. "He bored me rather quickly. All it took was a few measly bolts of lightning before he shut down and wouldn't respond to anything. His little girlfriend was a bit more fun, thankfully." At that, Zuko noticed Toph lying on the ground at an impossible angle, her face blank. Azula sighed in frustration. "She was perfectly fine until I burned the skin off her feet. After that, she just refused to play nicely and kept trying to suck me into the ground, so I had no choice but to indispose of her."

Zuko balked. "You _killed_ her?"

"Of course not," she said as though offended, raising a hand to her heart feigning pain. "What kind of monster do you think I am? _Agni_, Zuko." Azula walked over to the small earthbender and pushed her with her foot so that Toph was lying on her back staring up to the ceiling. "She isn't dead, just heavily sedated. I paid your bounty hunter a few extra coins for a grand supply of her shirshu's saliva."

When he focused closely enough, he could see Toph's unseeing eyes moving rapidly, trying to pin down the point where their voices came from. He looked her over for further damage and tried not to blanch at the sight of her near blackened feet. Her hands had been burnt as well.

He hoped it wasn't too late for Katara to heal her.

At the thought of the waterbender, Zuko glanced at where she'd sat against the cavern wall and he found himself bursting at pride when he saw that she'd managed to stand on bound feet. Even more impressively, she'd found some water (where she'd gotten it, he had no idea as Azula was pointedly keeping it from them) and was using the scant amount of liquid to slowly but surely slice her way through the thick ropes restraining her hands. He understood her resolve to remain silent then.

Their eyes met in mutual trust and understanding. Katara sent him a slow smile, her lips bleeding and cracked from the arid atmosphere.

He turned back to Azula, hell bent on buying Katara as much time as he could. "Why did you want the Avatar in the first place?"

Her tinkling laugh resounded through the stone cave—cutting through the still air and reminding him just how deadly she really was. She waved a hand as though the question were a bug she could swat away and dismiss. "I can't believe you haven't figured it out yet, Zuzu. I knew you were dense, but _honestly_."

He'd known since the moment he'd seen her on the cliff. Though Zuko was not especially skilled, he was a decent actor as well—at least, he was skilled enough to fool his deranged sister into believing his every expression. "You took him as bait. Didn't you?"

She clapped sarcastically. "Very good, Zuzu. I knew you couldn't _possibly_ be as dumb as you looked."

Katara's wrists were free at last and she moved to the bonds on her ankles, the miniscule supply of water that she had slowly diminishing with use. Zuko continued stalling. "He's bait for me."

Azula huffed in annoyance. "Yes, Zuko. I figured that would go without saying—perhaps you _are _as dumb as you appear after all."

He frowned in a show of confusion. "But why would you use the Avatar to lure me here? And why take Toph?"

"Well, to answer your question about the earthbender, it was mostly unintentional. But also it was unavoidable. The little badger-mink was determined that she wouldn't let the Avatar go without a fight. Jun claims it was easier to take them both rather than attempt to separate them and risk the girl literally tearing the earth apart to get him back."

The Fire Lord still adamantly felt that finding Jun and punishing her after they rescued Aang was an idea _most_ appealing.

"As for the Avatar…" Azula skirted around her brother and approached the younger man, squishing his cheeks together as though he were an infant. Zuko repositioned himself so that Katara would be blocked from her view. Azula looked to him, smiling again, but he could almost _feel_ the change in her demeanor. Just as he had before their Agni Kai, he sensed her nearing her brink.

Azula krept two sharp nails up Aang's face to his glowing arrow. "I know you well enough, brother, to know that you still value your _precious sense of honour_. By taking the Avatar, not only did I negate all your _hard _work to restore peace to this wretched world, but I challenged you personally. As the newly crowned Fire Lord, it would only reflect badly on you—and you _alone_—if the Avatar were to _disappear_ once more—especially given your history with the boy. The world may be at peace, but they still don't trust you, _Fire Lord Zuko_. They don't believe your pathetic charade of trying to establish world peace."

Zuko's head pounded with the information. "What do you gain from setting me against the world?"

She rolled her eyes. "Everlasting pride that I succeeded and you were my success. That you personally helped me complete the only goal I ever clung so avidly to—_defeating—pathetic—little—Zuzu_." Her nail drew a rolling drop of blood from the Avatar's bald forehead with each word.

"This was all you putting on a show of sibling rivalry?"

"You think you are my rival?" She spun on her heel and pinned him with a glare that was as obsessed as it was manic. "You are nothing but a weed, Zuko. And it's my duty—no, my _birthright_—to prune our family tree."

Azula's crazed look only increased when she grinned, eyes widened in a demented haze as she looked beyond him (he started, fearing that she'd discovered Katara breaking free).

The voice that came from the shadows sent Zuko's pulse into a frozen panic. "It turns out that I have a few secrets that I love too, Zuko." He turned without thinking about what he was doing. Mai's head was ducked when she stepped into the dim light, and the Fire Lord heard his blue-eyed companion gasp (he wished he was as surprised as she was). Mai's eyes met him, a somber realization within the dark irises.

"I am sorry, though," Mai muttered.

Zuko wondered what she could be sorry for—it wasn't like her to regret her carefully thought-out decisions—until he didn't have to wonder. Three stilettos sunk deep into his chest, just below his ribs, and Zuko stumbled back in shock, his filthy tunic slamming against the Avatar's bare chest. He slid down to the ground only because his feet stubbornly refused to support him, and at some point his head hit the ground. His vision faded slowly. As the lights began to dim, he watched Mai cross her arms and turn on her feet, retreating back into the darkness of the cave and then Katara's face enveloped what little of his vision he still had, her eyes wide and frenzied, and he tried to understand what her lips were saying to him as they formed small, precise shapes.

His head fell back as his eyes drifted closed and he swore that Azula's loud cackling that resounded with pride wasn't just in his head.

-/-/-

'_And like a prune, I plan to watch you shrivel and dry.'_

Katara was knelt over Zuko, hands fervently skirting over his chest (she knew she had to pull the knives out—_but she didn't have any water to heal him with_). Her words came out barely more than a whisper, but urgency spilled into her voice as she _begged_ him to stay with her, _begged him_ to hold on. She kept whispering him promises that he'd pull through, promises that she'd save him.

Her hands pressed against his chest, feeling the blood churning beneath. Like how Toph could see the whole world with her feet, Katara could see an entire body with just faint contact. And she looked inside of Zuko, feeling through his blood, until he came across an area that rendered her completely blind—it was killing him.

Katara gripped each handle of the stiletto (sunk far too deeply for comfort) and threw them on the ground with a clatter.

Mai had _poisoned_ them.

She was exhausted beyond belief, but this was a matter of life and death. Zuko's death.

Though she had no water (and sweat wouldn't suffice for _this_ task, unfortunately), Katara pressed her hands firmly onto his chest, fingers spanning over his deep wounds. She sought deep into his body and swayed his blood flow, parting the sickly blood from the droplets that were alive. She wouldn't allow them to mingle. It was hard with little energy to draw from, but in the night sky hung the full moon—though she could not see its light, she could feel it in every inch of her blood. She prayed to Yue, drawing at the strings of her heart to connect with the moon spirit to help her. The bright red blood that had seeped from his skin retreated and in its place globs of blackened, dead blood oozed to the surface.

He gasped in a breath and Katara pushed harder. He was coming to, but her job wasn't done. She began to seam the broken flesh back together, keeping his precious life blood deep inside his veins and away from the impatient air of the unrelenting cave.

She was almost done—and apparently that was highly upsetting to Azula.

A large blue flame licked against the sore skin on her back and Katara screamed out in pain. Azula pulled the waterbender up by the back of her neck with a flaming hand and hissed into her ear, "_What_ do you think you're doing, _peasant_?"

Katara slammed her head back and it cracked hard against Azula's skull with a sickening sound. As Azula stumbled away in rage and pain, Katara scrambled to her feet—she wouldn't make the mistake of turning her back to Azula again (Zuko had learned the same lesson years before).

Azula crouched low into a fighting stance and the two circled each other, hands at the ready.

"There's no water here, Katara!" Azula barked. Her head was whipping wildly and Katara could only remember her looking as crazed as she did once—before she'd struck Zuko down with her lightning. Lightning in this cave would be deadly. A ball of fire erupted in each of the former Fire Princess's palms and her face resembled an angry spider-cobra. "You're completely out of your element. You don't stand a chance—not _this_ time."

Given the events of the last month, Azula had never been rendered more wrong. For the first time, she was entirely in her element. She would easily make _Azula_ her element.

Zuko was climbing to his feet in the corner of her eye. She did not break eye contact with his crazy sister, but he knew she was speaking to him. "Get Aang and get out of here."

He nodded quickly, springing up to the entrapped body of the young Avatar and he quickly created a thin flame that cut through the heavy iron chains. The Avatar fell into Zuko's arms and Zuko heaved—the last time Zuko had carried Aang anywhere, the kid had been much smaller than he was now (he'd gained _at least_ a hundred pounds since then, and Zuko was so tired).

Azula shot a bolt of lightning at his feet—the fact that she missed was the only indication that she was unfocused. The lightning reverberated all over the cavern and both Katara and Zuko fell to the ground, arms shielding their heads (Zuko flinched at the dead weight _thud_ that sounded when Aang smashed into the ground beneath him). "Uh-uh, Zuzu! You're _not_ getting away this time."

Zuko nearly laughed when Katara's quick hands swiped the sweat from her skin and threw them as needles of ice into Azula's shoulder. Azula's eyes bulked in shock.

"_You water tribe __**bitch**_!"

Katara flung another ice needle, sinking it into the edge of Azula's neck. "Zuko, go _now_! I've got this."

He didn't waste another moment. With the ease adrenaline was all too happy to supply, he slung the unconscious airbender over his back and darted into the darkness where Mai had disappeared moments before. When he passed her—which was sooner than he would have liked—she looked up at him with as much surprise as her face could show. It was more than apparent; she hadn't expected him to live.

She'd _hoped _he wouldn't live.

Zuko shot a well aimed firewhip at the hem of her dress and picked up his pace to the sound of her frantically swatting out the flames. It was a warning—if she followed him (tried to stop him)—he wouldn't be so kind.

The cavity where the two women were fighting had lost all traces of light with the absence of the Avatar. Katara focused on quieting her breathing and she moved languidly on silent feet. She'd mastered the skill long before (you couldn't be the Painted Lady with heavy feet and or panting breath) so it came with ease. But Azula was keen, and her hearing had been trained by the greatest assassins in the entire Fire Nation.

So close the flame almost licked her nose, Azula's thin fingers shot out a blue glow. The Princess grinned ferally. "There you are, _peasant_."

Katara nodded in acknowledgement, her own smile growing in defiance. "Yup. Here I am." Azula's hands ignited furiously and she threw the flames as an extension of her own fists, skimming the skin on her arms as Katara ducked out of the way.

"Give it up already—even your grimy sweat isn't abundant enough to defeat me. _I _have the upper hand in this fight. _I_ have all the power." The firebender blasted a tornado of flames her way. Katara narrowly dodged the column.

She landed in a deep crouch before Azula and smiled into the darkness that fell upon the space with the absence of Azula's bending.

"You're right, Azula. You have the upper hand." Her eyes closed and she listened. Azula stepped forward. Katara's hand snapped up in the direction that her muffled step came from and Azula shrieked. When the blue flame sprouted from her foot, Katara jumped up at the Princess. Her right hand was suspended high in the air, her wrist bent backwards. The waterbender kicked the princess's foot away and her hand grasped Azula's other wrist that was not out of reach. She dug in deep, her own will melting into Azula's body.

A soft light, no bigger or brighter than a candle, sprout from the hand in Katara's grip. Azula looked at her hand in horror and at Katara in rage. _She wasn't doing that_. Katara appeared impassive, and an eyebrow quirked threateningly. She squeezed tighter and suddenly a large column of fire burst from the firebender's hand. Azula screamed.

"I _may_ be out of my element, Azula. But _you _are ahead of your time—the sun's nowhere to be seen, and the moon is on _my side_."

Her hand pressed harshly against Azula's stomach, pressing hard into the fabric. Her hand shook—Azula watched her in horror. She could feel it deep inside her, slicing through her very veins, frost flowing through her with increasing fury. Her entire stomach froze solid.

The third chakra. _Manipura._ Frozen. Without it, Azula was without her fire. Without it, her entire body locked up.

Katara slowly lowered her opponent to the hard stone floor. Azula's eyes did not move and her breath laboured to keep her lungs pumping blood to her heart. She wasn't frozen like she had been when Katara pulled at her blood like strings of a puppet—she was simply limp and immobilized.

The waterbender ran to Toph's still body on the floor and her hands moved quickly, drawing as much of the saliva from her blood as she could. Toph rolled onto her side feebly and spit out the poison.

"Good form, Sugar Queen."

-/-/-

Toph was too weak to walk on her own—and she'd never resented such a simple fact more. Katara slung one of her arms around her shoulders and she held onto the smaller girl's waist as they stumbled through the long rock corridor. Toph was clearly in pain walking on her damaged feet, but crawling would have done her no good either as her hands were fairing only slightly better. She was glad for once that she wasn't the only one who was blinded because the tears that poured from her eyes would have been mortifying.

Katara slammed into something hard. "Oof."

"You should really watch where you're walking." Toph heard a match strike and Katara sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

"Mai."

The taller woman's face remained neutral, albeit a smidge annoyed. "So you and your friends have managed to escape—again. What happened to Azula?" She'd heard the fighting from where she sat, but this was Azula's fight—she'd done more than her share by springing Azula from that abysmal asylum. Hurting Zuko had been a personal bonus (he broke her heart twice so she deserved to return the favour).

"She's _indisposed_. I froze the source of her firebending from the inside. If _you're_ lucky, her blood might thaw out before any lasting damage sets in." Katara hoisted Toph up higher and tightened her hold on her. "There's a good chance she won't pull through without immediate help, though. I'd get going if I were you."

Mai didn't move. "I noticed that Zuko's alive."

"Yeah, no thanks to you."

Mai stared down at Katara, the set of her eye hinting that she thought herself superior. "Really, waterbender. He's my ex-boyfriend. How did you think I was going to react to seeing him again for the first time since we broke up?"

Katara pushed the aristocratic woman back (_out_ of her personal space). "You tell me, Mai. I just traveled the entire world to save _my_ ex from a psychotic blood-thirsty firebender. I guess I was just expecting you'd be a _little_ less bitter and a _little_ more an adult."

Mai's eyes narrowed imperceptibly—and by now, Katara knew what that meant. The match fell to the ground, extinguished. The fan of knives that the taller woman held behind her back sprung forth with her arm and at the last second (just as she was about to loose the blades) her fingers clamped down on them firmly and her arm lowered, the feeling of stone in her veins as her actions were no longer under her own control. Her arm felt as though it was pinned against the wall behind her (her fingers convulsed wildly) and it started to go numb.

Katara walked closer to where Mai was caught. Toph lent forward against the stone wall, the burnt skin of her palm ripping against the rough rock. Mai's entire hand was swallowed deep into the wall, burying her up to her shoulder. A collar burst around her neck, and shackles scraped against her ankles.

"I saw the way out," Toph mumbled, exerted from the minor display of bending. Katara nodded and helped the young woman amble down the corridor—leaving Mai behind encased in stone.

"You almost had a chance to save Azula, Mai. Think about that while you're hanging out in here." Katara's words echoed around the tunnel, ringing in the ears of the expressionless noblewoman.

Mai's eyes closed in resignation, her head falling forward against the abrupt stone brace.

"This way."

Toph successfully lead them to an opening a measurable distance from the cavern that had imprisoned them both. With just that one look, Toph knew what things to avoid and when to duck or step down—and yet, she claimed that her look had been blurry at best. At long last they came to a long, skinny opening, from which the light of the rising sun nearly blinding in contrast to the vacant black of the cave. Zuko sat against the wall, Aang propped against him still glowing bright, throbbing white.

Zuko rose at the sound of their footsteps. "Katara, we have a problem."

Katara, supporting most of Toph's dense weight, followed in step as he neared the ledge just outside the opening. He looked down, indicating that she do the same. Toph pressed the less damaged of her hands to the side of the cave mouth and she whistled low.

Katara was stunned into silence.

Toph chuckled. "That...is a long drop."

They stared into the bottomless canyon with a heavy feeling lining their guts.

-/-/-

"I'll earthbend us to the edge of the canyon."

Katara shook her head. "Your feet are so damaged you can't even walk, let alone see. It's too far a drop to chance something like that."

Toph grimaced. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't think I can do it?"

The waterbender sighed. "I have no doubt that you can. But you're weak and you're still suffering from partial paralysis. If you passed out mid-rock, that would be the end of it. Besides, we don't even know _where_the edge of the canyon is." She noticed Zuko staring at her and she turned to face him head-on. He was easy enough to read. "We are _not_ trying to climb this. Even if Toph and Aang weren't here, we're far too exhausted to make it anywhere—not that there's even anywhere _to_ go."

He huffed and slid back on the ledge, climbing to his feet. He towered over Aang and ran his hand through his filthy hair in thought. "'Tara…"

"Zuko, we're going to die up here if we don't think of something right now."

"I actually have an idea."

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. "If it has to do with flaying Jun, we already agreed that it was going to happen." Neither actually planned to follow through with it, but it helped to imagine the gruesome revenge.

"That wasn't what I was going to say." Zuko crouched down, watching closely as Aang's eyes continued to glow. "Hear me out. He's in the Avatar state, right?"

Katara frowned. "Yes…"

"I heard it works like an automated self defense mechanism."

_Where was he going with this_? "In a way. Yeah, I guess so."

Zuko nodded. "So his glowing arrows and eyes are sort of like life insurance."

"Zuko—"

He pinned her with narrow gold eyes. "Katara, we have the Avatar. That's the _ultimate_ escape plan."

"There's no way to snap him out of it." Katara jumped to her feet, appalled. "Zuko, are you seriously suggesting that we—"

"Strap ourselves to the Avatar, hold on tight, and take a leap of faith."

Toph was listening intently and at the suggestion, her face paled in horror. Not just for Aang—but the idea of _free falling hundreds of miles_.

The waterbender soaked up the idea, trying to reach a clear understanding of his intents—but to no avail. She exploded. "Are you _insane_? We're talking about _Aang_ here. He could die!"

Zuko was propping the younger man up against the stone wall. He grunted. "He's not just Aang. He's the Avatar. If anyone can do it, he can."

Panic gripped at her heart, sending it into a frenzied beat reminiscent of a hummingbird's wings. "Zuko, he could die. We'd be responsible for not just the death of Aang, but the end of the Avatar line."

"Then let's pray to the spirits that he doesn't." He was being reckless beyond belief and that was unlike him—but Zuko was desperate, and he was determined that they wouldn't die where they were. If they were going to die, he'd rather they die doing _something_ rather than sitting around (and he knew they all felt the same, but fear told them to smother the urge).

He hoisted Aang up against his chest and held his hand out to Katara as he stepped towards the edge of the cliff. He really wished that Azula hadn't taken his makeshift pack—the rope would have come in handy (but he recalled bleakly that the rope _had_ been put to use tying Katara up)

Katara stared at his hand.

Zuko nodded at her reassuringly. He swallowed hard, hoping that his nerves weren't too apparent. "Katara, I promise you that if we die, you can extract your darkest vengeance on me in the next life."

Her chest rose and fell methodically. She stared him down.

She trusted him.

Katara grabbed Toph's shoulder, helping her to her feet. The two each wrapped an arm around the blind girl and instructed her to hold on tight to Aang's arm. With a heavy look, their arms locked in a trusting death grip and they began to inch to the edge. Katara's lips pursed and she tried to keep back the trail of tears that poured out of her eyes.

"Ready?" Zuko asked. His legs were shaking.

Toph's yell burst right in his ear. "Wait, no! Are we really—"

Zuko rocked on his heel and launched them over the side.


	7. Chapter 7

**It's a funny realization that out of _everyone _in the world, Zuko always has had the most faith in Aang—first it was that he was out there somewhere, then it became the belief that he could do anything. In a way, Zuko's kind of his biggest supporter.**

**I think this is the longest chapter yet. Stick with me here; I promise the Zutara drabbles will return.**

* * *

_It happened four years earlier._

_She was constantly high strung._

_There was always something that could go wrong. Something that was dangerous. Something that needed to be taken care of but __**wasn't being attended to**__. The war was over, but there was so much chaos—reparation did not come quickly or easily after a hundred years of conflict._

_Before they had all gone their separate ways from Ba Sing Se, Zuko had taken a particular notice of how stressed out Katara managed to make herself. It was worrying, as he knew what years of the poisonous emotion could do to the soul. (He hated to think about all that __**Avatar crap**__ but his Uncle had been persistent during his training to explain to Zuko all about Chakras and the effect they wrought on a bender's body.)_

"_It's right here," Zuko pressed his fingers against Katara's spine softly, "that you hold your fear. This is the Earth Chakra—it's called Muladhara. Stress is the way your body interprets a complete block in this Chakra. Since it's the first of all seven, when there's a block here, the rest of your body responds in survival mode, both physically and mentally. If it's not dealt with, the stress can circle around in your body—first it builds up, then it blocks you, then the cycle starts again and it increases because it's got you so high strung you feel too drained to do anything about it."_

_Katara's look was puzzled as she looked at him while he took his fingers away from her half-bare back and walked around her. Zuko sunk down onto the ground, his legs crossed with ease. "How do you know so much about Chakras?" Even Aang had never been able to explain the concept to her, as he himself was less than interested in truly understanding it._

_Zuko shrugged. "Uncle likes to talk." He waved a hand at the spot on the bamboo mat in front of him. "Sit down. Fold your legs like mine are—this is called the lotus."_

_She climbed down into the position. The muscles in her legs—though well exercised—stretched out to a point of mild discomfort at the new attitude._

"_Good." Zuko rested his wrists on his knees and Katara followed suit. His golden eyes lowered and Katara let hers drift shut—for a brief second, before he spoke. "Don't close your eyes entirely. An important point of meditating is that you are aware of what is going on around you. Keeping your eyes open or half open is the best way to do this. If you close your eyes, you're more likely to let your mind wander."_

_Katara breathed deep, her eyes drifting to a soft gaze. She watched Zuko as his chest rose and fell rhythmically._

"_Straighten your back," he commanded quietly. Katara's eyes popped open and she looked down at her lap, then at Zuko. "You need to be completely centered and balanced."_

"_You aren't even looking."_

"_I'm meditating, Katara. I'm completely aware of my surroundings. Now straighten your back, soften your gaze, and clear your mind."_

_She sat as she was instructed and gazed at Zuko, focusing on keeping her mind clear._

_Zuko's lips didn't even seem to move. "You're trying too hard. There's a difference between having a clear mind and attaining focus and focusing on clearing your mind. You need to do the first. Don't think about it. Just let yourself be free of any thoughts and be in the moment." His voice lowered to just above a whisper. "Forget there's anything besides what you see now. Right now, there is only you and me."_

_Katara fidgeted a few minute later._

"_Relax. Breathing will help you." She obviously wasn't learning fast, as her mind snapped at him that breathing was sort of helpful __**all the time**__. "Let your breath flow out of your lips like the moon pulls at the tide. It may not always be steady, but it has rhythm. It laps against the sand, clearing any mark the land has witnessed."_

_He'd chosen his words perfectly. After that, Katara began to catch on more easily._

_Two years after Zuko had taught her, Katara sat on the stone floor of the courtyard in the Southern Air Temple. Her mind was clear, and her stress had eased (at least for the time being)._

"_Pull like the moon…push like the tide." Katara whispered the mantra a few times to herself, leading her through the breathing patterns with ease. It was a lot like waterbending, finding the push and pull of the natural element and allowing it to lead you rather than forcing it unnaturally._

_She knew long before Aang could even see her that he was approaching._

_Katara breathed out languidly. "Good morning, Aang," she said softly, continuing the rhythmic breathing._

"_Good morning Katara." He sat down onto the ground parallel from her, but did not join her meditation ritual that Katara had come to rely so fondly on. "Did I interrupt you?"_

_Every time he spoke it was akin to a pantherfly flitting around her head. He was incredibly distracting (though she knew he had the best intentions). "I suppose not. Is there something you need?"_

_Aang reached up and scratched the back of his bald head. His cheeks flushed with colour. "I—ah, actually wanted to talk to you. About that thing I said last night." His gaze fell away from her face, flustered._

_Katara's eyes opened. There was no more pretending her focus was still unbroken. She sighed, straightening her posture. Her eyes drifted, hoping he'd take that as his cue to leave it alone. "I'd rather we not talk about this now." She shook her hair away from her shoulders and set about blocking him out._

_Aang lent back on the ground. "When can we talk about it?"_

"_I don't know, Aang—but not right now." She needed him to accept that—she needed him to accept it without her having to say it out loud._

_He twirled his long thumbs together, his nerves eating him alive. "I just feel like this is an important thing to discuss. I know I'm the Avatar and that I was raised in the way of the monks but I'd really like—"_

_Katara snapped at him. "You were completely clear of what you'd like out of our relationship, Aang. Now can you just drop the subject? I really don't want to talk about it right now."_

_Aang frowned. He was torn between bristling at the obvious rejection and pouting that she was being so closed off. His reaction became an awkward mix of the two. "Okay, that's fine." It wasn't, not for him. His voice was shy. "Then can we talk about something else?"_

_It was painfully apparent that she wouldn't be getting back to her meditating any time soon. Katara's posture slumped. Her hand splayed over her face—she shook her head in frustration. She just wanted peace and __**quiet **__and to be __**alone**__. "And what would that be?"_

"_Your bloodbending."_

_Their eyes met with a strong prickling stagnant energy. "We're __**not**__ talking about that."_

_The airbender crossed his arms defiantly. "Well, it's either that or we can talk about why you won't give me an answer about marrying me. It's your choice."_

_She narrowed her eyes at him. "There's nothing to talk about—on either topic."_

"_You promised you'd never bloodbend again."_

_Frustration laced her tongue. Katara's fists shook against her knee. "I seem to remember at one point you promised that you'd never firebend again. You broke your promise, so don't get on me about breaking mine."_

"_That's a completely different situation. I'm the Avatar; I have __to be a master in all four elements."_

_A dark look cast over her face. "So because you're the Avatar, you get to fully expand your skills but since I'm just a lowly __**waterbender**__, I'm not allowed to learn everything that my __**single**__ element has to offer?" Katara rose and her feet pounded heavily against the ground as she stormed off through the empty temple grounds._

_Aang caught up with her with ease, falling to the ground before her in a gust of air. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Katara, that's not what I said at all."_

_She shrugged his hand away and crossed her arms. "Then what are you trying to say, huh?"_

"_Bloodbending hurts people!" The intense look in his eyes insulted her._

"_And you're saying that firebending doesn't? If I recall correctly, the entire __**reason**__ you swore off firebending in the first place was because you __**burned**__ me." She was hitting below the belt (Aang __**still**__ expressed his condolences for the event more often that she'd like)._

"_Katara—"_

_Katara turned away from him. "Aang, just leave me alone."_

_Behind her, the young Avatar lowered his head. "I'm scared it's going to change you." His voice broke._

_He watched her shoulders rise and fall and he wished with all his heart that she'd turn around. Finally, she did, but he did not relish the sight—her face was indifferent, and her voice cut deep. "You know Aang, I think you should find Guru Pathik and work on mastering the Avatar state. I think that would be good for you."_

_His dark eyebrows drew together, concerned. "Katara—"_

"_And I think it's about time that I headed back to the Southern Water Tribe. This place is getting a little too warm for me, and Sokka's been writing me asking my advice on some of the renovations for our village. So I think that it's time I go where I'm needed."_

_Aang felt like the world was falling away from him. His eyes shone with hurt._

"_But…__**I **__need you."_

_Her blue eyes had never seemed cold to him before until then. She squared her jaw. "I don't think you do. I think you need to focus on being the Avatar, Aang. As your master, I've taught you all I can, so I don't think I need to be a part of it anymore."_

-/-/-

The canyon walls were growing narrower.

How long they had been falling, they had no idea. The wind rushed past their ears, spinning them around violently as they hurtled down into oblivion.

Zuko's voice was urgent. "Come on, Aang. Come on, come on, come on." He repeated it over and over again, praying that the Avatar would hear him.

Katara's eyes were lidded, like Zuko had taught her. Her breathing was calm—_push and pull, like the moon on the tide_. She held tight to the others and focused on keeping her mind clear. She was trying to extinguish the fear she felt.

Toph had screamed in terror as soon as they toppled off the cliff. She'd screamed until her throat wouldn't let her scream anymore—by that time, both Zuko and Katara were yelling at her to be quiet (that screaming wouldn't make them stop falling any faster). She was silent now, but she knew they could feel her body shaking with sobs. Now, she buried her face into Aang's warm neck, warm tears smearing against his skin as they fell every which way.

Until then, Aang had been entirely unresponsive.

A moment after Toph had pressed into him, his previously glowing tattoos dimmed, fading back into their natural blue state. His eyes closed and when they opened again (this time their normal shade of earthly grey), he looked around to put together his surroundings…

And began to scream. "WHY ARE WE FALLING?"

Both Katara and Zuko's eyes met in shock. "Aang! You're awake!" Katara yelled over the rushing wind and howling echo of the rock all around them.

"Yeah, I'm awake! Why are we _falling_?"

"We jumped off a cliff," Zuko growled loudly. He'd been hoping so faithfully, and he was irritated that he'd been wrong about Aang—if they got out alive, he wasn't looking forward to Katara's righteous revenge. "We were actually counting on some of your Avatar magic to get us out of this!"

Toph couldn't believe her ears. "How can you guys be having a conversation at a time like this?"

But her _very loud_ question went ignored. "We jumped off a cliff while I was in the _Avatar state_? Are you _insane_?"

Zuko's face was sour and he twisted it away from Aang's to achieve a comfortable distance. "Well, you're out of it now—so do _something_!"

Aang couldn't budge. "I can't do _anything_, Zuko! I'm completely restrained! Did you even think about what you were doing before you threw us all off a cliff?"

"Guys!"

"Of course I did," Zuko hissed. "I was _thinking_ that you'd go all super-Avatar on us and whisk us away to safety!"

"Well _clearly _it didn't work that way!"

"No kidding, Avatar-obvious!"

"There's nothing around for me to even _bend_, how could you possibly think that cliffdiving was a _good idea—_"

"Guys! Would you two quit bickering like an old married couple for a minute?" Toph's voice cut through their squabbling, if only because the men were surprised to hear her voice. Her neck was extended back, and she wished she could see if _only_ to have an idea of her body's orientation. She flinched as something small hit the parched skin on her face. "Are we falling into water?"

Sure enough, A heavy shroud of mist had encased them, thick enough that it contorted the view of the rock walls all around them (and the ominous darkness below).

"This is perfect!" Zuko exclaimed. "You guys can bend the water! Aang—"

"_Still_ restrained, dum-dum." Though the movement was weaker than it should have been, Aang kicked a sharp foot into Zuko's leg. The Fire Lord flinched, more annoyed than hurt.

"Right. Katara, can you—Katara?"

Her eyes were wide with panic. "Zuko, I'm slipping."

And he tried to hold tighter at her arm, but the cool droplets of water that splashed against them had made their skin too slick for any traction. Her fingers slipped from his forcefully and his heart beat fast against his chest when he watched the grip she had on Toph's thin tunic tear away a strip with ease.

Katara fell away and Zuko screamed her name—wishing the word would bring her close to them, back to the safety that he'd sworn to her.

They were going to die. Katara had first said it and now he was beginning to believe it—and Aang strained his voice screaming it into an empty canyon.

But they didn't die. They barely had the time to blink when suddenly, they were no longer falling.

Then the world was dark.

-/-/-

Toph came to slowly, unnerved by the silence around her. She let herself lie still as she assessed the state of her body (she was sure she had to be bleeding and mangled from the abrupt stop at the end of their fall) but the longer she lay there, she began to notice that she felt better than she had in _weeks_. Her toes curled, stretching out her ankles and feet, and with intense joy, she realized that her feet were healed and the skin that stretched over them in place of that which Azula had destroyed was soft and teaming with life—begging to _see_. The blind earthbender let her hands wander around her, and to her delight, she was lying on flat, smooth _stone_.

And Toph gasped—what she saw was incredible.

The stone she lay on wasn't the only in the room, and the room was part of a large building—more square than any she'd seen before. Each of the rooms were connected by thin bridges and sharp staircases, some winding, some not. But what amazed Toph was that the house was one of hundreds (just like it) and the houses spanned for hundreds of _miles_, with stairs and bridges and rivers cutting through the rock, giving the area depth. She strained and soon enough, she could _finally_ see the end of the city.

It was a _ginormous_ cave.

And there were _thousands_ of people living there. Women and men, children and elderly—all of them living in this magnificent cave _hundreds of miles_ beneath the known world.

A small sound—a breath—brought her back to the small room and the small bed of rock that Toph was currently lying on.

"Sugar Queen?"

The person let out a small laugh—definitely feminine. "Your friend has gone on a tour around our city," the woman said. Toph heard rustling (and something swinging), and then the woman's feet appeared from above, out of _nowhere_, light as a feather.

She'd only seen steps that light once before. Aang.

"Who are you?" Toph asked suspiciously.

The woman stepped closer and Toph pushed herself to sit. "My name is Dhara."

_As though that meant something_. "Okay," Toph muttered. Her hands ran along the stone again—she still couldn't _believe_ this place. "And where am I?"

"You are in our infirmary—you were badly burned and our healers felt it would be safest that you—"

"No, Fancy-feet. _Where_ am I?"

There was a lapse, a pause, where the woman was most likely taking her time to figure out her intent. Her pulse remained constant, so Toph knew that she wasn't trying to deceive her. "You are in the city of Ijaz."

She'd never heard of it in her life. "We're underground," Toph commented. Her question was unspoken.

"Yes," Dhara confirmed. "We are beneath the great salt lake of Ji Fai—though I suppose it is now the _desert_ of Ji Fai, based on the tales your friends have told."

Toph's brow furrowed. "How did we get here?"

She laughed that high, twinkling laugh again and Toph found herself annoyed that this woman thought this was _funny_. "Well, you and your friends fell quite a far ways from the face of the bluffs—I fear to know how you came to be there at all. My people, however, have lived here for thousands of years."

A thousand year old city thriving beneath a barren desert in the most dangerous place in the Earth Kingdom—arguably the world. The concept had Toph's mind racing as she tried to take it all in.

"We should have died."

The woman's heavy breath wasn't sharp like it would have been if she were shocked by the idea. "Yes, you were indeed falling to your doom. If you had fallen much longer, you surely would have been impaled by the rocks below." She sounded so _rational. _

"Then how—"

The woman's muscles tensed before she jumped, and suddenly, Toph could no longer see her—but a familiar soothing swinging noise disrupted the silence. When she spoke at last, her words came out clear, but her tone sounded almost embarrassed.

"You were saved by the wind."

-/-/-

Her hand pummeled against his chest, encased in cool, stinging water. "You didn't even _think_ about it before you threw us over that cliff, did you?" The water didn't cut into his skin, but it left a red mark at the abrupt contact. She repeated the motion, continuing to throw the perfectly aimed liquid at him. "But that's Zuko for you; jumping to action without _thinking_!"

Zuko stepped back with every hit, his face resigned. He knew this was going to happen (he hoped it would, anyway, because it was the _only_ plausible reaction to them surviving his instinctual decision to throw them into the canyon). They had survived, though, so he was more than content to let her attack him.

Aang perched on the low bridge above the small canal the two were sparring in (or rather, had been sparring before Katara had chosen to just _yell_) and he huffed. "Katara, just calm down."

"Calm down?" She didn't even turn to look at Aang. She threw another swirling orb of water at Zuko, knocking him back until he was lying in the shallow stream. "Why would I _calm down_? We nearly _died_ because Zuko couldn't stand still!"

This time, Zuko fought back. A small flame licked just above Katara's knee (small, because he only wanted her attention—he didn't want to hurt her). She jumped away.

"But we survived, didn't we?" Zuko leapt to his feet and the tables began to turn as he advanced on her. "And I did think." He fired a large blast her way and her hands furiously threw up a thin wall of water, the two connecting with a loud hiss and erupting into a cloud of steam. "You kept telling me that we were going to die if we didn't do something—so I did _something _. I didn't realize you considered _dying_ the preferred—option!"

He caught her waterwhip mid-air with two blazing hands, disrupting the stream with his touch as the heat simmered out.

"What you _did_"—she lifted him high into the air in a column of water, freezing it around his legs—"was throw us to our death into a canyon we couldn't see the bottom of!"

Zuko blasted free of the ice and his foot shot a tornado of flames directly at her middle (she dove into the safety of the shallow canal as the flames devoured their way through the empty air above). "And it worked, _didn't it_?"

Her eyes went wide with fury. "That's—not—the—point!" Fists of water hit him as though to emphasize each word (in the chest, the shoulder, his thigh, his gut) and each one was colder than the last until she finally held a fist of ice that he _knew_ was aiming for either his head or somewhere—_more sensitive_. Zuko dove at her, using her shoulders to flip himself over her. He stood behind her and quickly pulled her hands behind her back before she had a chance to react (Katara sputtered angry curses at him).

"It _is_ the point, Katara. We're safe now"—she struggled against his grip (his hands increased in heat) and he held on tighter—"and if we'd stayed up there and waited, we could be dead by now. I couldn't just do _nothing._"

"Let me go, Zuko!" She tried to throw her weight against him in an attempt to make him fall back, but it was no use. Zuko held her in an inescapable vice.

His chest pressed against her back, warm with exertion and slick from the water. He breathed heavily and his cheek pressed against hers. His voice was a low growl, "I'll let you go if you stop attacking me."

"No!" She stomped on his foot, but he didn't even seem to notice. "You put all of our lives in danger just so you could play the hero."

Zuko's eyes tightened—he flipped her onto her back, his hands pinning her down in the shallow pool that wasn't even deep enough to reach her ears. "You _know_ that's not true."

She shook her head. Katara wasn't sure if she was still infuriated or if she was just releasing the terror she'd been feeling for weeks and taking it out on him. Her head shook furiously, and the water splashed against her skin (she'd missed water so). "I don't care," she spit out. "That was the most terrifying thing that I've _ever_ been through."

His hand released hers, fingers lingering on her wrist, and it moved gently to cup her cheek. His eyes trailed over her face (trying not to catch at the fading red hand mark that marred the dark skin on her neck) and his eyes gazed solemnly into her own—his eyes were begging hers, admitting his wrongs and begging her to forgive them. "I promised you I wouldn't let you die."

The waterbender's angry expression faded—at last, the fear began to spill out into her eyes, salty and warm against her cheeks. Her mouth twitched with the remnants of a soft smile. "And I trusted you—I still trust you."

(Aang rolled his eyes at the scene—they'd obviously forgotten he was there and he was growing steadily more and more tired of having to turn his head to ignore how close they were getting.)

The airbender's voice was sullied with the annoyance he was feeling. "You guys know I'm still here, right?"

The two stilled and Zuko moved away from Katara to sit on the edge of the channel. Katara sat up in the water, brushing the escaped hairs away from her face.

"Why aren't you more upset about this?" Katara asked as she wrung out her long hair. "If you had died, the Avatar would never be reincarnated again." Zuko rolled his eyes—her long winded reprimanding was growing old—at this point, she was recycling her reasons for the sake of guilting him.

Aang shrugged. "I was mad, but then I realized it doesn't even matter. You two saved us from Azula, but if Zuko hadn't made such a crazy decision, we would have been stuck up there for who knows how long." (Zuko chuckled and Katara gave him a dirty look as punishment.) Aang looked around the city, lit with an unearthly pale blue haze by hundreds of small crystal orbs (each with a long burning flame inside) and he smiled. "Besides. I feel like we were meant to end up here. I mean, how often do you get to discover a thousand year old secret civilization inside of a canyon?"

Katara shook her head. "You're glad that we're stuck in an underground city in the middle of the desert?"

"Yeah." He threw his arms around. "I mean—just look at this place. This is like the ultimate desert oasis. How can you _not_ be amazed?"

His enthusiasm worried her—he always had a tendancy of basing too much around misplaced hope. He would get ahead of himself and when it fell out of his grasp, he would be crushed.

"Just think of what we could learn from these people. They're living relics of cultures from centuries before even _I_ was born. They have so much knowledge and wisdom—"

Katara hung her head. "But Aang—"

"Katara, there are _airbenders."_


	8. Chapter 8

**If you want some more of the secret canyon city, I'll be writing more about it in my other Avatar fanfic, Trails of Sincerity. It's a Toph/Aang centric story, so if that's not your thing, don't worry about it. I probably won't get to that too soon (as the first chapter was just a random spark of inspiration), but I'll get to it eventually. Enjoy!**

* * *

He approached her silently—he was far better at sneaking up on her than she was on him, though they were both closely matched. She wasn't startled by his presence, but she was surprised when he sat beside her and pulled the shoes from his feet and slipped them into the cool turtleduck pond like she was.

Katara threw the remainder of the bread crumbs in her hand onto the smooth surface of the pond and looked up at him. "Hey."

He shook his head and smiled, as though something were amusing (she clearly portrayed her confusion in her face, but he acted as though he did not take notice). "The servants are beginning to think you're mad, you know." And as good as they were at their jobs, they were better at spreading gossip.

"What? Why?" Katara hadn't exhibited _that many_ traits that could have been construed as insane in the two years she'd been staying in the palace. Once or twice she may have been caught talking to herself, but she'd hurriedly explained to the maid that witnessed it that she was simply trying to calm herself down by fabricating a dreaded conversation (the maid had nodded and ducked out of her room, her eyes unsure and full of disbelief).

Zuko snickered. "You're the first non-noble that has stayed for an extended period in the palace, and they're bewildered by your antics."

Katara dropped the disk of ice she'd been spinning between her hands. "What _antics_?" her voice peaked with the question, and it took all his power not to double over in laughter at how oblivious she was.

"For starters—you're sitting outside in the courtyard with your bare feet in a pond. That's not really something noblewomen do."

She looked down at her submerged feet and frowned. "Well, I'm _not_ a noble, so it shouldn't matter. Besides," she kicked a bit of water at his robes, "you're doing it too."

Zuko pulled the damp garment away from her reach and wrung it out. "I'm doing it so they'll stop thinking you're so weird."

"I am not weird!"

The entire pond rose several feet into the air before splashing back down into its resting place—the turtleducks quacked hysterically and scrambled for the safety of the grass.

He snorted. "Oh yeah, you're doing a great job convincing everyone."

"Waterbending isn't weird, either," she snapped. She'd spent most of her childhood listening to Sokka avidly convince her she was freakish for having the talent to bend and only her Gran-Gran's kind words had comforted her. But they were in the Fire Nation—bending wasn't uncommon, even if waterbending was rare.

"They're just not used to it." He didn't see why her bending was still such a scandal after two years of living there, but the servants still found it cause to whisper to each other in the shadows and behind curtains.

She fell silent—she was hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn't ask her to refrain from her bending at the palace for the sake of appearances.

Zuko pulled his feet from the pond and folded them under him. "That's actually not what I came out here to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Katara looked to him. She felt relief, but she was also worried by the crestfallen tilt of his head. "What is then?"

He sighed. "I should have told you this a long time ago." He'd had _so many _opportunities to do so, but something had always held him back—and the longer he held back, the more guilt gripped at his insides.

Her gaze tightened. "What is it, Zuko?" there was a warning tone in her voice and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"It's about your mother's necklace…I took it." When he managed to look at her at last, her expression was flat and unimpressed. She looked as though she didn't believe him. He shrugged in defense, "Well—I did."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I know, Zuko. That's old news."

"It is?" He had no idea how she'd found out—no one had known. No one _could_ have known.

"_Yeah_. I'd say about eight years old, if we're counting."

Zuko paused, processing what she'd said—and then he frowned. He felt utterly confused. "What?"

"Eight years ago, you took my necklace after we had the run in with the pirates—_I know_." She let out a light chuckle. "You tied me to a tree and dangled it in my face—_remember_? And then you used it to have Jun track me down so you could try to capture Aang."

She had it all wrong (it amused him endlessly, but he needed her to understand). He shook his head. "That's not what I mean."

"What _do_ you mean, then?"

He said something unintelligible, too quiet and too quick for her ears to make out.

"Zuko, I can't understand what you're saying."

"I took your necklace after General Tsu burnt down your house."

Her heart stood still—she'd thought for more than two years that it had been lost in the debacle (lost forever). It was her last connection to her mother beyond her memory and the stories of those who had known and loved Kya—and now he was telling her he'd had it all along.

Katara's mouth dropped open. Her voice was small. "What?"

Her broken tone felt like a knife to his side. Zuko scrambled, reaching deep into the folds of his robe for the pocket where the token rest and he pulled it out, closed securely in his fist. Its smooth edges were a comfort (and he wouldn't admit to her how many war meetings he'd sat through where his hand had unconsciously run over the stone to calm himself down). He didn't even know _why_ he was so comforted by it, but he was.

His fingers uncurled slowly and both stared down at the small pendant lying on his palm. The carved marks in the blue stone were still as pristine as ever, but the edges were marred by a newer charred black edge that clouded the gem.

"Zuko…" Katara lifted the pendant from his hand and held it between her fingers gently (fearing it had become brittle and would break apart to dust—and with it, she feared the same of her mother's memory). The elk-seal leather strap that had once been attached to the necklace by a single ring had been replaced with a fine chain of the same aged gold colour and it shone in the midday sun.

Tears glistened in her eyes. "You changed it."

It was no surprise, given her attachment to the sentimentality behind the heirloom, that he misinterpreted her tears to be those of anger. He rushed his words hoping to alleviate the feeling. "When I found it, the original strap was completely destroyed. I managed to clean up the pendant to where it was at least presentable, but—I really did try to restore it, Katara. I wouldn't have changed it if I thought I could have—"

"Zuko, stop." She put a hand on his shoulder, signaling to him to quiet his fumbled words. Katara looked at the necklace and sighed. "There are no words." She pressed a soft kiss against his scarred cheek (his eyes went wide—he'd never felt a sensation so pure or powerful) and her arms circled his neck.

"There are no words to thank you."

He put a hand on her back and pulled her in tight. He was so very relieved that his action had been well received—because he'd spent so much time sweating over the adverse possibility that he was so sure it would be true. Zuko's hand ran gently through her hair.

She knew with every fiber of her soul that he'd done it just for her.

"You're welcome, Katara."

-/-/-

He knew he was being picky—but he _did not want to marry a noblewoman._

After three years of endless _interviews_ to find him a wife (as though being his wife were a _job_), Zuko had vented his frustrations and objections to his advisors. That he desired to be with a woman whom he loved and who loved him back out of more than consenting servitude and sense of duty. He had adamantly explained that he wanted whatever woman he married to be ambitious and live for more than just to birth his heirs and sit quietly by his side as he ran his nation. He explained, calmly and rationally, that he wanted a wife of whom he would be proud to let rule _alongside_ him.

Which they found to be absolutely blasphemous.

They berated him, explaining that generations upon generations of these _interviews _were the sole cause that his strong family lineage had existed as long as it had, and that if it weren't for a carefully selected wife and Fire Lady, he would not be there today. They hadn't appreciated when Zuko pointed out the flaws in their logic; by name, Fire Lord Sozin, _Phoenix King_ Ozai, and the former Princess Azula. No, they hadn't liked that one bit.

He was completely shut down. It was against royal tradition—against everything their _strong nation_ stood for. And they would not sacrifice years of success for the romantic whims of the young, misled Fire Lord.

So now (perhaps out of a delayed act of rebellion) Zuko was just being picky. And he didn't find it in him to care.

This one's name was Nuo. It was a strange name.

The woman before him prattled on about herself. She was the daughter of an elderly noble couple living on Kirachu Island and they'd had her educated from infancy by the best tutors the Fire Nation had (just like every other Fire Nation noble, Zuko wanted to retort). She was a prodigal vocalist, she boasted, and he quickly found out that she was prideful in many ways but the topic she was most enthused to gush about to him was her prowess in firebending. She'd been taught by a _master_, she told him, and she'd soon surpassed and defeated her master at an Agni Kai at fourteen years young. Not only that, but she'd learned to created _blue flames_ with ease within months of her training.

She was right to boast. It was very impressive—_if he was into that sort of thing_.

Nuo was shorter than most noblewomen and she was gawky, her limps seemingly too thin for her frame which presented her in a clumsy air—but her brash bravado and lifetime of preparation as a proper noble hid the imperfections well. She was not fair skinned like the other noblewomen, but neither was her skin a dark, exotic colour (in the candle light, he thought it looked rather jaundiced, and he figured it might seem rude to ask if she was ill—despite her personal and almost inappropriate questions aimed at him). Her eyes were large and oddly shaped and her nose was short and nowhere near as pointed as most nobles proudly exhibited. But what he couldn't help but stare at was her squared jaw—and he knew it was rude, but he had never seen a woman with such uniquely indelicate features. He was fairly surprised that his advisors had picked her for him to court considering how different she was from the women they'd thrown at him before her.

She was attractive in a strange and endearing way—but he was being picky.

She scoffed at him when he bid her farewell, replying sarcastically, "_Thanks for your time, your highness. I had a __**great**__ time getting to know me._"

If they were so insistent that he had to marry on their time, then he would waste as much of it as he pleased.

-/-/-

In the fall, the leaves fell to the ground in magnificent shades of red and gold. The city's streets became speckled with them, and children made large piles and laughed as they jumped from one to another. On the outskirts, some of the poorer citizens would gather the leaves and store them in their dryrooms for an extra fuel source during the colder winter nights.

In the square, however, the leaves were placed in glass bowls and set aflame to be used for light because every fall, gypsies traveled through the Capitol City on their way to the eastern islands of the Earth Kingdom. Their caravans brought much excitement and they put on an impressive festival. There was dancing and puppet shows, jugglers and acrobats. Strange men would gather a crowd and thrill them with stories filled with magic and intrigue and betrayal. Women in wagons sat in the dark and drew in the lonely face to spin them a tale of the future using simply a crystal ball or deck of strange, worn cards. They came with exotic food from all parts of the world and spirits for every taste. The festival was loud and it lasted a week and by the time it was over and they pulled out of town, the square was unrecognizable with all the debris left in their wake.

All his life, Zuko had known of the gypsy caravans visiting outside the gates of the palace. He could hear the festivities wear on late into the night and more times than he wished to recall, they had kept him awake as a boy, wondering what was going on that could illicit such merriment and rowdy sounds for an entire week at a time, seemingly without rest. He'd snuck out once when he was ten years old and climbed to sit upon the gates to watch the celebration, but Azula had tattled on him and his father sent out three guards to retrieve him before he could see anything worthwhile (he'd been punished that night, and Zuko still remembered the sting).

It was a squalid affair to partake in the gypsy caravans, his advisors warned him. It would only reflect badly if the people saw their sovereign mingling with such lowly charlatans and prostitutes and con artists of ill repute. It would smear the very name of the royal house, and he would find himself unable to ever restore the respect of the nation he was fighting_ so hard to restore._

Zuko had nearly screamed at them. He had been banished for years and cast away as if he were a criminal—and yet they were berating the nomadic gypsies as dangerous travelers of ill repute? They had some nerve, he thought.

Calmly but firmly, Zuko informed them that he _was_ the Fire Lord and they were his _advisors_. He reminded them that they were in a battle to _better_ their nation rather than cling to the rigid social structure that had confined them for generations. He asked them, expecting (as he received) no answer, to explain to him how he was supposed to gain the trust of his people if he remained locked up in his palace and never experienced life the way they saw it—because how could he justly help them if he did not know what trials they faced?

The argument hadn't gone well, but in the end, Zuko had sent them away—he reminded them that what he did during his free time was his own business and they would fare best giving him the privacy his title demanded (he felt sick to his stomach playing the '_Fire Lord_' card).

Needless to say, despite the advice against it, that night found Zuko exiting the palace gates dressed in modest and inexpensive clothing on his way to the city square for the first time to partake in the gypsy caravan. He was _twenty-five_ years old and it was about _time_ that he finally soothed the curiosity that had consumed at him since childhood.

Katara was practically _dancing_ two steps ahead of him. She was skipped and spun in step as they traveled down the cobblestone streets from the palace to the square—and if his ears weren't deceiving him, she was humming as well.

He rolled his eyes. "If you weren't excited to go you could have just said something," he quipped sarcastically.

The waterbender spun on her feet (she was so _relieved_ to be wearing pants again) and faced him, still maintaining a jolly hop in her step as she walked backwards.

"Oh, don't start being a wet blanket _now_. Why didn't you tell me about the caravans sooner?"

Zuko shrugged nonchalantly—he didn't want to admit to her that this was his first time seeing them up close as well. "It just didn't really strike me as important."

Katara looked absolutely shocked. He thought when she was excited like this, she looked so young and carefree that he could pretend they'd never been through any of the trials that his great grandfather had started years before. She halted and he nearly bumped right into her. "Not important? Zuko, we're going to see _gypsies_!"

He chuckled. "I know, Katara. They're _just_ gypsies."

"Oh, hush. I've never met a gypsy before."

"Neither have I," Zuko mumbled. Katara looked at him with shrewd eyes and he couldn't help but worry that she was reading something beyond his eyes that he'd rather keep hidden. But she didn't say anything; she just grabbed his hand and began to _run_ down the streets. He stumbled at first in surprise before he fell in step beside her. "You know, we don't have to run. They're not going anywhere."

She nodded. "I know, but I don't want to miss _anything_." Her enthusiastic smile was infectious.

With every step they were carried closer and closer to the bright lights and teeming music that beat through the centre of the city. Crowds of people were scattered within blocks in any direction of the gathering of caravans and performers were flocked as they exhibited their talent to the wide-eyed and lose-pocketed townspeople. (His eyes caught so many of the gypsies slickly slip their hands into a purse here and a pocket there that he felt enraged, but he wasn't about to risk the scene that would result from bringing about the justice they deserved.)

Katara lingered at the sight of an exceptionally tall man that could walk over a fully grown adult in a single stride. The man's gait was lumbering as he strode through the street, blowing fire from his mouth that erupted into coloured paper and fluttered to the ground. He'd seen the trick time and time over.

Zuko grabbed her arm and led her away. "He has tall sticks strapped to his feet. Come on, there's more this way." At last they reached the heart of the celebration and Zuko looked at Katara as her eyes took in the array of colours and the strong fragrances that permeated the square. They passed a woman dancing in a twirling orange skirt with coins jangling around her waist and ankles (Katara was enrapt by the movements, quicker than any of her bending moves and jerkier but still captivating and fluid—and she wondered if maybe she could learn to dance like the woman with the silver eyes).

In a shorter span of time than he liked, Zuko found himself standing alone in the center of the festival with empty pockets that had served one too many drinks already into his system and no idea where Katara had gone. She'd been whisked away however-long-ago (he thought, perhaps, it had been when they were dancing by the flutist) by a short young woman who painted on her arm and asked her to join her and the other dancers (he'd tried to get her to stay, because in his mind, he was scared he had no idea what she was getting herself into—and Katara had a knack about finding herself in trouble—but she'd run off anyway with no more than an apologetic glance cast back at him).

He considered wandering about to find her, but he hadn't the first clue where he would start.

"Hello there young man," an old woman said as she approached him from one of the extravagantly decorated caravans—she'd been eyeing him for quite a while. Her white hair was wrapped with a shimmering purple silk scarf and large golden hoops hung from her saggy ear lobes. He was unnerved by her eyes—her left iris was a pure, clear green that shone like an emerald but her right was a disturbing violet shade, disrupted by an abundance of bright red lines.

He did not return her toothy smile, but nodded to her in acknowledgment. "Would the young man like his palm read? It only costs a silver coin to know what lies in store for you."

Zuko almost laughed—he had enough people telling him what was going to happen in his life. "No thanks," he grumbled. He tried to walk past the woman, but her knobby fingers and sharp nails dug into the shoulder of his tunic and pulled him back.

She walked around and looked up at him. She was talented at appearing wise, he noted. "No, I suppose not. You look to me to be the type of man who uses the element of surprise to his advantage—we wouldn't want to ruin that." He was put out by the way she glared up at him, holding his eyes in her deadlock gaze. "You are a man of mystery."

Zuko pulled out of her grasp and scratched the back of his neck. He just wanted her to let him go so that he could go find Katara. "Thanks I guess."

"What is your name, young man?"

His eyes narrowed. "Lee."

She nodded—he was so confident saying it that it was easy enough to believe he'd been telling the truth. "I can sense a vast power behind your eyes, Lee. There is a saying that states that behind every powerful man there is a woman to guide him—do you wish to hear what love I see in your path?"

Zuko shook his head adamantly. "Definitely not." He just wanted her to leave him alone.

Her thin eyebrow rose in intrigue. "Then there must already be someone in sight for you, I imagine."

"No." Where was Katara? She couldn't have gotten so far already.

But the woman kept at her relentless pursuit. Her aged mouth set in a blinding smile and he was hoping that he wasn't imagining the gap that alluded to a missing tooth. "Surely a handsome young man like yourself must have very little trouble attracting any woman in your sights?"

He hated when swindlers used false flattery. "I don't have a problem with women being interested."

"Then perhaps not the _right_ woman. I know what you need." The woman reached into her drooped sleeve and pulled out a tiny glass phial, its content deep red like blood. She held it up in the light, presenting it for him. "This is a special elixir that can cure any matter of the heart—it's said to make its drinker fall passionately in love with the first person he or she sees." Her eyebrows rose suggestively, as though the offer she was trying to sell him were attractive—but he'd heard tales and horror stories of such _magic potions_ and even in his tipsy state, he wasn't fool enough to fall prey to her hounding.

Zuko shook his head. "I don't want your potion."

"It'll only cost you a single gold coin—one gold coin for an eternity of love and happiness."

This time, he scoffed aloud. He'd had more than enough of this. "You're selling lies for a gold coin, not love or happiness. Even if I had the money to give you, I still wouldn't want it."

He walked away and pushed his way through the crowd. It was well into the night and he knew traveling back to the palace too late on the night of a festival could become perilous. He called Katara's name as he wove through the mass of people, bumping into shoulders more often than he would have liked. He spied the dancer she'd left with, but Katara was nowhere to be seen and he was growing more and more frenzied—something might have happened to her.

They'd all heard the stories, afterall. Gypsies didn't travel without leaving tales behind.

At the top of his lungs, he yelled into the sea of brightly clothed people all around him, hoping that some stroke of luck would find her near enough to hear. "Katara!"

But luck was not on his side that night.

"There he is," a gypsy man with a small frame and long black hair shouted to another. He pointed straight at Zuko and the two men had murder in their eyes—"There's the _thief_."

He ran.

-/-/-

He stopped running and fell forward, resting his hands on his knees as he panted to catch his breath. He'd run in zigzags through the forest enough that he was more than positive they hadn't been able to follow him—he was highly skilled in evasion, after all, and even the gypsies were no match for him.

Letting out a long breath, Zuko raised to his full height and cracked his neck. He'd been looking for excitement, and he'd definitely found it. As grateful as he was to have gotten away alive, he was also happy that he'd finally had the chance to be part of the experience he'd watched so many times.

The night was late and owls called to each other through the trees as snakebats swooped through the darkness for their prey.

Though the option was less-than appealing, he figured he might as well begin the trek back to the palace since he wasn't welcome in the festival any longer. He looked about his surroundings, trying to discern from the many times he'd set out into the forests where about he had ended up, but the dim light from the moonless night offered him no help in recognizing the area.

He hadn't even heard any footsteps.

All of the sudden a small hand clamped over his mouth. His hands were drawn behind his back, tied together too-snugly with some sort of strong but incredibly soft fabric and his body was jerked backwards, forcing him to fall to his knees. (He tried his best to bite and snap at the hand that hindered his speech, but it was in vain as the nimble fingers simply pressed harder against his teeth.)

"Shush now, Fire Lord. Don't worry," his captor (a woman) shushed him. His nostrils were smoking as his captor leant forward and her cheek pressed against his and she spoke softly into his ear, "I'll save you from the gypsies."

He'd know that voice anywhere.

Zuko's smile was radiant as her hand slowly fell from his mouth. Katara's laughter pierced the night and Zuko found himself laughing along.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter is probably my least favourite (so sorry!) and it was the hardest to write (I'm not a big fan of oodles of dialogue). But here it is, and if my brain can sop up something in this inspiration dry spell, there'll be another one coming soon.**

* * *

She wore her mother's necklace every day.

It was the smallest detail—hardly worth the attention he paid to it. Some days it wasn't even noticeable (the golden chain he had secured the blue stone on had once been part of a necklace of his own—a royal heirloom—and on her it fell too long to see beneath the neckline of her robes and dresses) but he knew that she always wore it.

He'd first realized the fact during a war council meeting. Dignitaries from every nation sat in the war room of the Fire Nation Palace—even Aang had finally bothered to show up for the occasion. Tensions were high among the representatives from the Fire Nation colonies as the plan to slowly relocate the citizens from their new colonial homes back to the Fire Nation and relinquish the towns to their natural government was revealed.

The South Pole had never been colonized, so the Water Tribe representative _mostly _resigned herself to sitting and listening (_mostly_, as it was not in the woman's nature to sit passively when dealing in matters that affected the world) but on the few occasions she did speak up, his eyes were drawn to her. In those moments, he noticed that she had drawn her mother's necklace from where it lay hidden beneath her robes. Her thumb rubbed at the smooth blue stone and occasionally her fingers would trail up, feeling at the thin golden chain while she spoke of matters that she found deeply concerning.

It startled him, because he realized it was _exactly_ what he had done when the necklace had been kept in his pocket. It was as though the simple trinket exuded some sort of calming miasma—but he knew that wasn't the case.

On a few spare occasions, Katara proudly adorned the necklace for all to see.

On her birthday a week after the celebration of the new year, she wore her necklace atop the pale blue silk dress that hugged her curves and cascaded to the ground (he tried not to look to much at the high slit in the dress and the lean expanse of her tan leg that peeked at him through it—in fact, he tried to simply not look at her in that dress). He had personally insisted to hold a birthday celebration for her—he had invited both Toph and Aang, as well as her brother and Suki who came with their two young sons. It was a small affair, but still a few other faces he couldn't remember names to came to congratulate her (though she lamented that it was only another birthday and there was nothing special about it to warrant their attention).

His advisors had eyed him shrewdly from the edge of the party that whole night, disapproving of the way he focused his attention on the waterbender and even less thrilled that he'd gone so out of his way to arrange the celebration _in the first place_.

One day she walked through the city and visited the market place. She wore a tunic that she had kept from her life in the south and he found it bewildering that the piece of jewelry that had once blended so seamlessly into her attire suddenly appeared ostentatious in comparison to the simple fabric it rested against.

Another time, he returned late into port one night after a particularly difficult visit to the northern colonies in the Earth Kingdom. The colonials had been less than amiable when they were faced with the reality of their relocation to the Fire Nation and the ensuing squabble had broken out into a full-out riot. Three of his crew had died in the uprising, and the rioters faced a casualty of seven with six more in custody on their way to a fair trial. He stumbled into the palace weary and worn and the surprise of Katara sitting up waiting for him in his state room had been a sight for his sore eyes. Her necklace dangled over the fine robe that she had tied tightly around her small waist and she poured him tea and tried to hide how worried she'd been since the news of the rebellion had reached the Capitol.

On one occasion he noticed that she did not wear her mother's necklace. She was attending dinner with one of the Lieutenants in his personal fleet—the realization dawned on him what that meant only when his oldest (and most disliked) advisor gave him a haughty smile. After she returned that evening, she entered his office to join him for a game of Pai Sho and he noticed that the delicate chain hung around her neck once again (though the gem remained hidden from sight) and he couldn't help but feel smug—and he hadn't the slightest inclination _why_.

-/-/-

Zuko didn't know Hakoda very well and what he did know of the Southern Water Tribe chief was limited to the handful of days spent in the man's presence long ago surrounding the end of the war. They'd had a few conversations in the short time they traveled together and though they were on amiable terms, they were by no means close.

Which is why Zuko was surprised to receive an invitation to the man's wedding.

He hadn't been the only one shocked, however. When the post had arrived at the palace, he'd hardly had time to finish reading over the message when Katara had burst through the door (two guards at her heels _begging_ her not to go in unannounced). Her hair appeared to have been meticulously done up before her frantic appearance in his office, but as she towered over him at his desk, he struggled to remember ever seeing it more dishelved. (And was that rouge on her cheeks?)

Katara loudly slapped a piece of paper onto the desk. "Do you know what this is?"

Zuko lifted Katara's fingers just enough that he could pluck the paper out from under the heavy pressure she was employing on it. He met her eyes and shook his head in a show of his exasperation at her dramatic display and then looked down at the message. It was a wedding invitation like his, with the exception that hers was twice as long with personal additions from her father (and her brother, if he was deciphering the small illustrations at the bottom correctly).

The Fire Lord sighed as the paper folded over and he looked up at Katara. "I'm not sure which part of this you want me to explain to you. I _know_ you have already read it yourself."

Her head whipped back as she groaned, snatching the paper away from him (only to shake it crumpled in her fist at his face). "_My—father—is—getting—married_." Zuko pushed her hand away from his face.

"Actually, I know that. I just received an invitation myself." _Though he wasn't sure why_.

She gave him a long look. "Yes, they mentioned that." Zuko had read the same letter that she had, but he couldn't seem to recall any mention of his being invited (and Katara didn't see the necessity in explaining to him that the drawing was actually of Sokka's depiction of him sending it to Zuko). Katara slumped into the chair opposite him. "How could he _do_ this?" she asked in a whisper.

"How could he do what?"

Her face fell into her palm in what appeared to be defeat, and immediately Zuko lent forward, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. He spoke gentle, worried words to try to get her to talk to him and when she finally did, he was relieved to find that she wasn't teary or shaken, but that she was simply upset. "How can he get married again?" And then, after a moment of her simply saying nothing, she finally said what he knew she really meant; "How could he do this to _Mom_?"

Zuko withdrew his hand. From a young age, Katara had been one of the wisest and most mature people he'd ever met—he had thought it unfathomable that she wouldn't understand something as simple as this.

And still, he knew he had to choose his words carefully. "Katara, your mother has been gone for almost twenty years—"

"Fifteen," she corrected him.

Zuko nodded apologetically. "I'm sorry—fifteen." He sighed and a long finger tapped at her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were understanding but they held an edge of reprimand (she didn't like that). "That's a long time to be alone."

She jumped to her feet and her voice rose with anger. "But he hasn't been alone—he has me and Sokka!"

She had never understood how they hadn't been enough to keep her father with them—first after their mother's death when he'd gone off to lead the men into the Earth Kingdom (and she _understood_ that he'd had to go, but then when she was only nine and still to this day she didn't understand why he hadn't stayed _for them_) and then when they'd been separated by the war's efforts in the Fire Nation, he'd been the first to suggest being apart. And now…

Very rationally, Zuko began to explain, "Sokka has his own family now and you're in a foreign land dealing with the political affairs of not only your homeland—"

Zuko wasn't sure what he could do when she began to pace across the floor. Her arms were frantic, as though the flamboyant gestures would make everything she said fact. "Fine, so maybe we moved on—but he left us. Again."

"Did you expect his life to stop after the war?"

Katara shook her head—he wasn't understanding her. Of everyone, she had thought Zuko would understand her objections the most (even if they were fabricated to soothe a deeper hurt). "No. But I thought we were going to be a family again."

As the war reached its end and Katara saw more and more of her father, her heart had begun to swell with hope and every night, she dreamed of returning home with her father and her brother and she imagined they would fall back into the comfortable pattern they'd lived in before the war took them to all corners of the world.

But she hadn't returned home and her brother had fallen in love and since Kanna and Pakku had been newly married, her father had gone back to what he knew—which happened to be sailing, and sailing far on long voyages at that. When she finally _did _return home, her heart had ached to find him gone.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd _seen_ him.

"You're no less a family now than you were when your mother was alive and you were all together." He felt bolted to his chair—as much as he wanted to help her (to find the right words that would sooth her) he knew that what she really needed was just to let off the steam she'd kept locked inside of her that fogged her love for her father.

"I know that, Zuko," she snapped. Katara's eyes burned and she wanted to lash out at him for all the _stupid_ sense he was making. He shifted the papers on his desk and straightened the scrolls across the top.

His voice was so sure, but he would not meet her eye. "Wouldn't your mother want him to be happy?"

"Well, yes—"

"Then what's the problem?" Though visible tears stung at her eyes, he had pressed on—not out of desire to be mean (Zuko could tell that she was so close to just _admitting_ what was hurting her so, and that was for the best even if she cried).

A small sob ripped from her throat. "He's tearing apart our family!"

-/-/-

Two months later found them as part of the boisterous ritual that was Hakoda's wedding. The food was…good, Zuko thought (he'd never grown much of a taste for Water Tribe cuisine, though he did occasionally enjoy their sea prunes). The music was lively. And Hakota and his new bride looked happy enough that the world could end that night and they would be content as long as they remained in each other's arms.

She wasn't inside celebrating. He knew for sure, because he had walked around the entire house searching for her and when she wasn't there, he had looked for her around the fire at the center of the village, hoping to find her among those dancing.

So now Zuko found himself wandering around the small village, weaving through the spaces between the ice huts with no idea where he was going and only the flame he held in his hand to light his way.

Though it was summer, he still wasn't accustomed to the cold temperatures of the South Pole. The air was still and no snow fell, but it was still well below freezing. The native people seemed not to feel the cold and wore thin sleeves (if any) and thin gloves—he thought he saw a few children barefoot, but that seemed too farfetched for him to believe. Zuko, on the other hand, was bundled in a thick fur-lined coat with his hood pulled over his ears and the thickest boots that Sokka owned but he was still shivering in the temperatures.

In the tiny, irrational part of his mind, Zuko wondered if perhaps this was some sort of karmic payback for dragging Katara through the desert for a week.

He found her sitting against the outer wall of the village. She wasn't bending or meditating or doing anything to keep herself busy—she was simply sitting there. Her feet were tucked beneath her and she stared off into the darkness ahead. Zuko found himself wondering if he should be worried, but he was hesitant to jump to any conclusions that would get him burned (or whipped) were he to falsely accuse the woman of them.

Zuko held the flame close to his chest as he crouched down in front of her. Her nose was red like her cheeks, which was the only suggestion that she could feel the cold as he could. Zuko swiped a fallen strand of hair out of her eyes and the movement caught her attention. She didn't say a word, but she watched as he took a seat beside her and crossed one leg over the other.

Zuko let the flame die out and he shivered at the loss of heat. The fur lining his coat was cooling in the night air, but he pulled it tighter around him hoping to retain the warmth. His breath was warm, though, and when he spoke, a cloud of heat poured from his lips. "Your dad's looking for you."

Katara rolled her eyes. "If that were true, he would have found me by now." She wasn't frowning, he realized—she was almost pouting.

"Katara, he just wants his family to be together. It's his wedding day."

"You think I don't _know_ that?" Even if she could excuse the loud celebratory sounds that echoed across the frozen tundra, there was the fact in and of itself that she was _in the South Pole_.

"Why are you so mad at him?" Zuko wouldn't admit to her that his reasons behind asking weren't purely to comfort her—Hakoda had pulled him aside and asked him to talk to Katara and find out why she'd received him so coldly (after confirming that the young Fire Lord didn't already know).

"I already told you." Katara's arms were crossed about her, holding her arms as though she was as cold as he was (but something in his mind told him if that were the case, she wouldn't have dressed so light). There was a dim light in her eyes that didn't sit well with him—she was lying.

"No, I mean—why are you _really_ angry with him?"

Katara lowered her eyes. "It's nothing, Zuko."

"Is it about your mother?" He understood, of course, how her mind could always find its way back to the woman she held so dear. His did the same when he thought of his father or of that fateful night that he'd last seen Ursa. The loss of their mothers had left a gap in both of them that would never truly feel filled.

"No, I—I don't know."

"Do you not like his wife?"

She sunk her face into her knees. "Anani wonderful. And I _am_ happy for them—I guess." At the very least, she was happy to see her father smile so brightly again after so long. She was bitter at first that he'd replaced the memory of Kya but what Zuko had told her had been true—fifteen years was a _long_ time to be alone (and as much as she longed desperately for her family as it used to be, she wouldn't wish a lonely existence on her father).

"Katara, I know there's a reason."

If he hadn't been sitting directly beside her, he never would have heard her reply. "He's moved on, Zuko. My own father's moved on."

"I thought you said this wasn't about your mother."

"No, it—it isn't. It's about me." Katara sighed and her breath formed a cloud in front of her mouth. "Sokka's got this whole new life with Suki—they have two beautiful children. And now my dad's got someone too and they're going to go and start their own family together—and I don't have place in either. Not really, anyway."

"They're your family, Katara. They'll always have a place for you."

His patronizing tone was beginning to grate against her agitated nerves (and he hadn't meant to sound patronizing; he'd meant to console. But that didn't matter to Katara).He wouldn't understand—the royal family, even were it not filled with psychopaths and power-crazed monsters, had never been known to cling so lovingly to the ideals of kinship.

"But it's different once they're married and have their own children. After that, they don't have time for your part and then eventually they start to forget how much you need them."

It was happening already. Her Gran-Gran had remarried the love of her long life and then passed away (and all she had been able to do was watch in helpless agony). Sokka had been her rock growing up—he'd needed her, and she'd needed him. They looked after each other and when he married Suki, he'd left for good. His time was spent looking after his two young sons, and it was becoming less and less common that Katara even received a letter from him (and he used to write at least once every month). Now her father, who she only wanted to spend time with, was moving on. And soon, he'd do the same as Sokka (and the absence would hurt more because they had never _had_ their time). She was afraid to lose him forever.

Zuko pulled her in close and her cheek rested against where his heart beat beneath several thick layers. It wasn't the first time they'd sat like that in the still of the night in her hometown, but each time was distinct and impacted him in ways he would never forget. Katara wrapped her arms around his waist and her breathing was slow.

His gloved hand rubbed soothing circles into her back. "Trust me, Katara—no one could ever forget about you."

-/-/-

"You better run, you little monsters!"

Immediately, laughter and squeals broke out across the snowy field as her two nephews scrambled to their feet and ran in large lopsided circles around their aunt. Her hands were raised in the air, a delighted smile on her face as she bended the snow before her into the shape of two small weaselbears that chased the boys on deft, stubby legs.

Umo, the eldest at five, stopped and mimicked Katara's arm gestures, his eyes screwed in concentration as a small tongue poked from between his lips. A small, poorly packed ball of snow rose from the ground before him and launched its way towards Katara and broke as it made contact with her knee. Katara glanced down at the white powder and laughed.

"That was good, Umo." The boy had shown a surprising talent for waterbending when he was three years old and though she hadn't had the chance, Katara looked forward to teaching him the art. Umo's smile was huge and with his big blue eyes shining in the sunlight, Katara was reminded of her own brother when he was young.

Pian was three years old and he wanted so badly to be just like his big brother. He tried waving his hands like Umo and Auntie Katara had (though his arms were wilder and his aim was far off) but the snow didn't move at all and the boy pouted. He tried again three times in frustration, but each time there wasn't any change. He sighed loudly and his disappointed voice lisped, "I can't do it."

Katara looked to her youngest nephew and her eyes sparkled mischievously. One of the snow-white weaselbears snuck up behind the tiny boy and suddenly, the boy was engulfed in the figure. After a second, the weaselbear began to shake and then Pian's head popped through. Clumps of snow clung to the fur of his hood and his face was red from the cold, but the same hopelessly adorable smile that his brother had split across his face.

"Look at me, Umo," Pian shouted, his snow-covered legs teetering forward in a clumsy gait. "I'm a snowman!"

Katara smiled as Umo ran over to his brother and sprinkled handfuls of powdery snow atop his brother's hood. She twisted her wrist and the younger boy giggled in glee as the snow he was encased in spun on one foot, twisting mere inches off the ground.

Umo ran over to her and tugged with his small hand on her pants. "Can you teach me how to do that, Auntie 'Tara?"

She crouched low so that she was closer to the little boy's level. "Of course I can." Her hand ruffled his dark auburn hair and the boy made a face, swiping at her. "But I think we'll start with the basics first."

"And I think that'll have to wait for another time." Suki walked along the outer wall and approached them, Zuko walking at her side. Suki was bundled heavier than most of the tribe (though not as heavily as Zuko) and her mitted hand rested on her belly, only starting to swell. Their third baby. Suki held her other hand out towards her oldest son. "It's time for lunch."

Umo pouted and further away, Pian fell backwards onto the ground, the snow encasing his body crumbling away in the impact. Pian whined. "But _Mommy_—I'm not hungry! I want to stay and play snowmen with Auntie 'Tara."

Suki threw a look at Katara—"And it's time for _that one_ to take a nap."

Katara smiled at Umo. "Don't worry, I promise I'll teach you some things later, okay?" Umo agreed, but only after making her _cross her heart_ and spit-swear on it.

After Pian's long-winded objecting had subsided, Suki was finally heading back into the village with her sons (Umo was content to walk alongside her, but Pian was happier climbing on his mother's back and had pulled her hood off to pull at her hair and pretend she was Appa). With her gone, Katara and Zuko were left alone. A silence settled over them and it began to snow again.

Zuko spoke first. "Those boys are—spirited."

She laughed. "Yeah. They're just like Sokka when he was that age." And it hadn't escaped Zuko's notice that the two siblings' arguments mirrored in magnitude the arguments that Katara and Sokka managed to get into time after time. She shook her head, a smile of disbelief adorning her expression. "I can't imagine how full Suki's hands are going to be when the baby comes. Sokka's hoping for another boy but Suki's told him that if that's the case, she's going to be spending _a lot_ of time training the new recruits."

"Your nephew's a waterbender." He'd watched their snow-games from the village entrance for a while before Suki had approached him and, noting that his eyes were trained on her sister-in-lawn, had asked him to walk with her as her escort—with ulterior motives clear in her brown eyes.

"Umo. Yeah." He could see her love for the little boy in the way her eyes lit up, and he was mesmerized—he found himself wondering what it would be like to see her eyes alight with a similar glow _all the time_. She waved a hand at the pile of snow that Pian had crawled from and the snow lifted into the air, reforming into the detailed otterbear figure that it had been before. "Sokka's scared that I'm going to turn him into my minion and that we're going to plot against him to freeze him in ice for a hundred years with no meat."

Zuko snorted aloud.

Katara shook her head. "It's Sokka; what can you expect?" And the truth rang out in her words. The man was a genius and a renowned warrior and a wonderful father—but he was still a deeply irrational boy at heart, and Zuko imagined it would always be that way.

In his pondering, he didn't notice the hard ball of snow being lobbed his way. It struck his unmarred cheek with a bite, and Zuko's eyes snapped up in shock. (He realized, as he looked at Katara who was whistling innocently and surveying the blue horizon, that the siblings were still alike each other in so many ways.)

Zuko's eyes narrowed. He bent down and gathered up a handful of snow (it was softer than he had expected and he struggled to compact it into a proper projectile) and without a thought, he threw it back at Katara. It hit her straight between the shoulder blades—he feared he may have thrown it too hard with the way she tensed up. Zuko was no stranger to throwing projectiles, but fire had less weight than the dense snow did, and he supposed that he might not know his own strength.

Katara turned slowly. She didn't look to be in pain—in fact, though her eyes were narrow, her face was painted with a playful smirk. "You shouldn't have done that, firebender." Her hands twitched at her side, feeling at the pull of the endless water around her.

But Zuko matched her in both pride and prowess and though his element was that of a warmer nature, he was adaptable and he wouldn't back down from a direct challenge.

So he smirked at her and tossed the ball of snow he'd already gathered for a second attack between his hands. "You shouldn't have started something you weren't going to finish, waterbender."

Dozens of snowballs rose high into the air and the static between the two crackled.

"Okay then," Katara rebuted as though they were enemies facing each other in a definitive match, "let's finish this."

"With pleasure."

And then she attacked.


	10. Chapter 10

**This is the shortest chapter I hope to write, but it's standing alone for a reason. Enjoy, and lemme know what you think so far (good or bad).**

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It was in a tea shop that he first confessed that he loved her.

He'd said it so strangely, he mused later, that it was no surprise she reacted the way she did.

He'd been leaning forward on the table staring down into his cup with one hand supporting his head. He'd had a horrid headache since the sun set the night before and by this point he couldn't seem to keep his neck straight. Perhaps that was what was clouding his mind. He felt as though every thought he'd ever had was pouring into his mind all at once, and he was scrambling through trying to grasp at a single one. It was like a typhoon was happening inside of him and much like the habits of the storm, it just happened suddenly.

"I'm in love with you."

Just like that. It was the only thought that was clear at the time, and he thought that perhaps it was the only thought he _had_ at the moment. That perhaps it was the same singular phrase repeating itself over and over distorting his perception and reducing him to the jittery mess that sat hiding his face from the world.

She'd been prattling on about something—one of her empowering, motivational speeches—and if he remembered correctly, it had been about a woman. One of the women his advisors were currently pressing for him to court. She'd been listing off the many fine attributes about her (Zuko couldn't even remember the woman's _name_) and just as she was asking him what he thought, he'd cut her off with those five words.

He'd never said those words to anyone before.

'_I'm in love with you.'_

His eyes were closed tightly (trying to keep the excruciating light from his sight) but when the realization of what he'd said set in after what seemed far too delayed, they popped open in shock.

She was _glaring_ at him. She didn't appear dumbfounded or even mildly surprised. She looked _infuriated_.

She'd moved back in her chair and her posture was erect. Her arms were crossed over her chest and he _swore to Agni_ that he had _never_ seen her glare such a deadly glare—not even when they were informally enemies.

He felt the blood drain from his already pale face and for a moment Zuko felt as though he might faint.

The Fire Lord. Faint.

Zuko swallowed hard and let his head rest back in his palm, his eyes clenched shut with more than just pain now.

He could not believe what he'd said. (That is, he absolutely _believed_ it, but he was completely shocked and slightly mortified that he'd admitted it to her.)

He waited for her to speak. His hearing was so sensitive he could hear her heavy and slow breath as she sat across the table from him, so he waited what he believed to be patiently for the slightest hitch in her breath, the smallest indication that she was going to reply.

Katara pushed her chair back and walked away.


	11. Chapter 11

It was spring and the pastel petals from the cherry trees that grew wild all over the small island blew in the wind, carrying as far as the beach to the east and the industrial area in the west. The sand was littered with the delicate fallen flowers and in the pale light of the crescent moon they looked like small shells disturbing the smooth of the perfectly worn sand. On a serene night like this, barely a single wave broke the glassy surface of the dark ocean.

The only sound that could be heard was the soft lap of the gentle waves on the shore. It was a constant, steady sound, barely louder than a whisper though as confident as a command. The ocean was contented in its motion, with the consistency that the simple push and pull of the tide brought to the small island. The calm was a breathtaking sight to take in.

Suddenly, a loud panting breath ruined the still of the night, and the atmosphere of the beach shifted to something far darker (defensive, maybe). A pale hand burst out of the water, clawing for purchase on the smooth coastline. The soaked figure crawled on atrophied arms up the sand, stopping just out of the harsh grip of the salt water. The figure fell onto the sand, gasping for air, and then the retching that ensued echoed through the trees. The figure scrambled to its knees and doubled over in body-wracking coughs that sounded like the bark of a predatory animal. When at last the figure had nothing left to expel, it raised that shaking pale hand to its mouth and wiped away the blood and salt water that had poured from its mouth. The figure rolled onto its back, exhausted.

It was a woman, and her eyes drifted closed with the relief that land had brought her.

She had been shipwrecked. On a voyage that she imagined must have lasted weeks (based on the way her stomach burned as though something were wrong, she figured it had been a long time since her last meal), something had happened to the ship.

There was no storm, but the winds were fierce and she supposed that maybe—just maybe—their mast had been struck by a spell of dry lightning because her only memory before struggling to the shore had been the bright, blazing flames that engulfed the small merchant ship. Before the fire, she may have been a trader or she may have been a ship-hand or she may have even been a stowaway but after the flames flickered their last (the ship fallen deep beneath the surface of the waves), she was simply the lone survivor of a terrible accident at sea.

Her breathing was shallow and hurried and she sucked in the fresh air as though she never would breathe again. She wiped sea-drenched hair away from her face and wondered why it was that she couldn't remember why she'd been traveling in the first place—was that normal, she wondered? She had no idea where she'd been before she was on the burning ship, nor did she have the slightest clue where she had washed ashore.

She had no idea that she had traveled a hundred miles terminally wounded.

No pictures flashed behind her eyes and no ghostly voices haunted her where her memory should have been. The thought that having no memories was not of the norm didn't even occur to her, she simply reveled in the fact that she had survived.

Three years before, she had been a ruthless killer.

Though she did not remember, three years prior had found her deep in the desert lands of the Earth Kingdom. She had so many useful people at her disposal, then, and she had used them to execute her greatest coup yet. She'd meticulously planned it, choosing the most remote and treacherous area in the whole world to be her base of operations. She had her bait in her grasp and everything was going perfectly (even though her prey was taking his pretty time to arrive). When at last he had been in her clutch, it had been _all too easy_.

But before she could not remember her name, her pride had been great. She loved to gloat, and did it well—it was only expected that she was a profound speaker with all her wits and tactical brilliance. Her prey had brought a leech along, but in their dehydrated state, that was easy enough to deal with. Soon enough, the leech would be squelched and she would finally be able to focus on her prey and then easily clean up all the loose ends. It was simple.

When she was still the clever hunter, she had made the mistake of underestimating the _bloodsucking power_ of that damned leech. In her proud need to boast of her conquest, she had let the leech slip back into the darkness. When it emerged again from its cowardice, it had latched onto her with a deadly grip. In her distraction, her prey had escaped, taking her bait as a token of his victory. She grappled with the leech—a mere _peasant—_and it was her greatest shame to admit that in the end, she was defeated. The leech left her lying on the cold, stone ground in crippling agony—the _leech_ had ripped away her very life source. And though she was paralyzed with the loss, her mind roared with rage, screaming for retribution. _She would not be snuffed out like a mere candle_.

Before the ship that had stranded her in a strange land, she had fought with death. For three days, she lay dying with no clear presence of _where _or _when_ she was—she simply knew that she was, and that she must _continue_. So she had conserved her energy (what little was left of it) and she focused her mind on doing the impossible—bringing the dead to life. Her body fought against her will and the pain was excruciating; but she was strong. And on the third day, she managed to crawl her way out of the dark burrow.

She had no memory of her last ally. As she stumbled through the dark, hard tunnels, she had met her. The woman was paler than ever and her body had been devoured by the very wall. The woman's voice had been hoarse when she pleaded her (_"Azula, please help me.") _and her gasp had been surprised when the blade had pierced her heart (_"Trust me, Mai, I am.")_. Were it anyone else, she would have stayed to watch the life drain from her eyes. But the tunnels were as dark as pitch and the woman encased in the stone collar had been loyal and she did not deserve to be a spectacle.

For three more days, she waited atop the sweltering bluffs and at last, she had met her saviour. He carried her down the cliffs on a stone platform and when they reached the bottom, his feathered steed had carried them back to the coastal town that was decided upon to be the rendezvous point. Though she could not remember now, she had been grateful to the man and after they lied together in his bed, she had silently slit his throat in his sleep, sparing him from the crueler fate he would have faced had he lived.

The pale woman gasping for air on the beach had no memory of the many lives she had taken as she traveled to where she knew her prey hid from her. She had no memory of the two years that she had spent skirting the southern coast of the Earth Kingdom, stealing from families to accommodate her lavish travel preferences. As the last trace of winter fled from the cold south-eastern region, she had stowed away on a ship headed for the trading post on Hing Wa Island.

As she lay on the beach, lost and weary, she did not recall the ferocity with which she had commandeered the small merchant vessel. She would not remember the fight that had resulted in the sailor's snapped neck or the look in his wife's eyes that stared at nothing from behind charred skin. But she did remember the flames that she had inadvertently caused. She would not remember that her pride had engulfed the ship in such flames that it had went down in mere moments, and she would not remember her panic as she realized she had destroyed her last chance of surviving the vast ocean.

She remembered the last flickering of the waves that had engulfed the ship she had fled, and she imagined that she had been traveling with plans to trade exquisite jewelry with the islands in the west (she wasn't confident that that had been the case, but the fine jeweled necklace that hung around her neck had sparked a story in her mind and she enjoyed pretending she knew who she had been).

The woman lay on the beach, her sharp golden eyes staring up at the cosmic theatre that played above her. Her head pounded from the salt and exertion but one thought—a memory, perhaps—danced in her mind with a tone that promised her it was of the utmost importance. The more she thought about it, the more clear the thought became. It was a name, and it must have been her own.

Katara.

Her name was Katara.

-/-/-

Another interview found Fire Lord Zuko hanging on by his last nerve.

The woman that was before him was particularly annoying. He wasn't being harsh, he simply found the fact to be an inescapable truth. She had seemed perfectly cordial when they had first met. She was nice and she laughed at his poor jokes and she contributed enthusiastically to the conversation—which he actually enjoyed. However, when she would ask him a direct question he, did not even have a chance to answer it before she joyfully piped up with the very answer that sat on the tip of his tongue. It was as if she'd read a memoir detailing his life (only none of the sort had yet to be written).

A guard burst into the room. "Your highness, I'm very sorry to interrupt."

Zuko refrained his smirk at the guard's words—he imagined they had no idea how _little_ he minded being interrupted at the time. "What is it, Chen?"

Chen looked around nervously, his weight shifting from foot to foot. The guard's gaze faltered at the sight of the noblewoman seated across from the Fire Lord as he realized just _what _he had interrupted. "There's, um—a disturbance in town."

The Fire Lord turned to face the man, his expression questioning. "You came to me because of a disturbance in town? Why isn't City Patrol dealing with it?"

The guard was literally twitching. His face contorted with nerves. "They were, but—they sent for you. It's—it's the Water Tribe Ambassador. She—"

Zuko rose quickly, and Chen's words fell short at the royal's towering figure. He waved a hand in dismissal. "Thank you, Chen."

"But sir—"

With a glare, Zuko excused the man. "I will _see to it_." Chen practically ran from the room, tripping on his boots. Zuko turned to the young woman across from him and bowed respectfully but dispassionately. "My apologies, Miss Ayane. It was a pleasure to meet you; I will send in a servant to see you out."

Zuko rolled his eyes as he took his leave and his robes fanned dramatically behind him through the door.

Ayane stared after him with an embarrassingly blatant pout.

-/-/-

A crowd had gathered long before he arrived.

The citizens were in a frenzy. Some were screaming harsh insults, some were pleading for a peaceful resolution. The few children that viewed the debacle were crying in confusion and their mothers were fairing no better. Gasps were heard far around, amplified in the multitude of voices that rung through the narrow alley.

Zuko hadn't even changed from his formal robes before storming into the city. The people parted like minnows for a shark as he treaded hastily down the streets. In hindsight, he would realize that it was due to the intense glare that adorned his strikingly intimidating features but in the moment he was simply grateful that no one had hindered his path. As he reached the mouth of the alley, he had to push his way through the crowd but once he had reached the center of their attention, the buzz of voices had reached a loud decimal.

The _Fire Lord_ was personally seeing to the commotion.

Before the debacle playing out before him, the alley had been part of the market stalls that spread throughout the greater part of the center of the city. Now, however, the stalls that had once presented goods to the interested buyer had been knocked over. Not only that, but they had been _smashed_. Splinters lay scattered about the place with shreds of torn fabric and what he supposed was once produce. He counted four heaps of wood and as his eyes caught on the cause of the disorder, he realized why.

Katara was standing in a crouched stance with her arms spread wide in the air. Veins bulged from beneath the smooth skin and Zuko knew firsthand what emotions would play across her face. It was early in the afternoon and yet, three men hung in the air before the waterbender suspended not by water like he had hoped, but by what seemed to be thin air. But he knew better.

She was yelling at them but her teeth were clenched in anger and her voice hissed with threat. "_Is this the way you treat people in need_?" The men's backs bowed and their arms bent at impossible angles. She stepped closed to them and all three men simultaneously slammed against the wall behind them with enough force that the wind was knocked from their chests. "_Is this how you act towards a child_? Does it make you feel like _men_ to beat a helpless little boy?" Not a single man responded (as she knew they would not) and Katara's eyes narrowed further with anger, her hand closing into a fist. "_Well, does it?"_

The men's mouths gaped, gulping for air and when Katara began to tighten her grip, he knew it had gone far enough.

Zuko wasn't looking forward to talking to the Water Tribe woman about her bloodbending, but he certainly had no intention to do so on public streets to make a spectacle of her. If the people found out that the _waterbender in the palace_ could control their bodies like puppets, he would have a rebellion in no time.

"Katara," he called out, "You need to stop." He'd been hoping that perhaps something had come over her and she _wasn't herself_.

"Walk away, Zuko," A nearly undetectable flick of her wrist sent a funnel of water straight into his chest—Zuko sputtered back in shock. "This doesn't concern you."

She had _attacked_ him.

Zuko stomped forward (fighting through her weak strikes) and his hand pulled roughly at her wrist, securing it behind her back. "Katara, stop!" She fought against him but her concentration had broken and the men fell to the ground with a sickly _thud_.

"Let go, Zuko!" she barked. His grip on her arm was biting into the bone of her wrist. She formed a waterwhip and flung it back at him with her free hand, hoping to distract him enough that she could get free, but he pulled tighter and spun her into the way of the oncoming lash. She hissed; drenched and annoyed, Katara only felt her anger spike when she saw the men she'd had under her control attempt to dart from the alley. "No!" with her yell, she threw a wave at their legs, freezing them in their steps. "Let me _go_, Zuko, you're hurting me. Don't make me hurt you back."

His hand ground harder into hers and at last, he managed to secure her second arm. He pulled it behind her back and she cried out. "Let _them_ go, Katara; I will _not_ stand for you attacking my people."

"Your _people_ almost killed an innocent boy!"

He turned them around so that their backs were to the crowd. "It is _not_ your job to extract justice."

With little effort, he held both her wrists locked in a single hand and he sent a blast of fire at the ice that entrapped the men. Onlookers watched with renewed interest, but a loud bark from the Fire Lord sent them about their business and left the two benders in a deadlock at the end of the trashed alley.

She bucked against him, kicking and slamming and butting at him, but he held on tighter through the assault until finally she stilled, though her arms were still shaking. (He hoped she wasn't too mad at him, as he'd never meant to publically shame her as he just had.) He shook her wrists as a warning. "If I let you go, will you be calm?"

"Let me go and you'll find out," she hissed.

He didn't trust the anger she was showing—it went beyond Katara's normal touchy attitude. This was something else, something darker; something that sought revenge rather than just to do right.

Despite the fact, he did let her go. She jerked away from him and spun on her foot, throwing a small orb of water directly at his face (Zuko sputtered). "I had it under control."

Zuko shook his head. She didn't understand, and that baffled him. "You were moments away from starting a riot. You may be a foreign dignitary, but that doesn't give you license to undertake the responsibility of punishing my—"

Like a spark that stoked a wildfire, her temper began to flare once more (and not for the first time, Zuko found himself amazed that Katara wasn't a fire bender with the temper she had). "They attacked a _little boy_!"

She'd just been going for a walk through town—she'd been looking at the exotic fabric on display at the mouth of the alley. She hadn't even meant to attack the merchants. But she'd heard the little boy scream—he couldn't have been much older than Umo—and she saw the older men bearing down on him, their fists unkind and their feet just _cruel_. And something had overtaken her—it had started with her just yelling, but they _ignored_ her and she couldn't just let them _hurt that boy_. Something took her over, and it was dark. And though the moon had never been further away in the sky, she felt as powerful as she did when the moon was full.

"The boy was most likely a thief. He's lucky his hands weren't cut off immediately. That's usually how vendors deal with thieves."

Katara balked. "That's barbaric!" her fingers curled at her side and the soaked cobblestones slowly started to frost over, unbeknownst to the firebender. "How could you _let _that happen?"

Zuko sidestepped the liquid fan that aimed to strike his side. "Merchant laws are beyond my jurisdiction, Katara. I didn't _let_ anything happen—and will you _stop_ attacking me?"

"No!" the stream she blasted from her hands knocked him back several strides and he stumbled to save his footing. "You should have left me alone. You should have let me—"

She let out a small _'eep'_ of surprise as suddenly she was hoisted off her feet by the crumpled fabric on the front of her tunic. Her back hit the stone wall and all the air expelled from her chest. She tried to reach up, to pull his hands away, but his fists were strong as they held her against the unrelenting rock. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Let you _what_?" His breath fanned across her face—he was _so close_—and Katara found herself gulping back fear she hadn't known she could feel. His body was so close to her she could feel the abnormal heat resounding from him through layers and layers of fabric, and she held as still as she could. Zuko's eyes locked against hers. "Let you _finish_ them? _Kill them_?" Katara's head hung as she realized how dramatic it sounded.

Because she would have done it.

Zuko shook his head. "No. I refuse to let you become a monster."

Guilt gripped at her heart and embarrassment flooded her cheeks. She knew that this time, she'd gone too far. She'd _have_ to apologize, and she hated admitting her wrongs so much. But after the trouble she'd caused—she supposed she had to (for him).

And as Katara opened her mouth to utter the words she hated speaking with downcast, shame-filled eyes and a heavy conscience, she barely had time to take in the odd glint in his golden eyes before his mouth slammed against hers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for this wait. Unfortunately, I'm having to take up a second job so as to pay rent, so I won't be able to update as frequently as I have been or I would like to.**

**Don't kill me for this chapter. It seems a little scattered and random, but the fact is that I'm not writing _every_ moment within the dynamics of the story, just drabbles here and there.**

**Also, and this is just a random fun fact, the first dream I mention in the first section was an actual hallucination that I had this last week when my own fever was breaking.**

* * *

She never felt cold. As a native of the bitter frozen lands of the South Pole, it simply wasn't a sensation she was familiar with. Living in the tropical climate of the Fire Nation, she'd felt uncomfortable and smothered by heat many times—but she'd never once found herself shivering and chilled to the bone.

It was unfathomable.

It wasn't even _cold_.

She hadn't left her rooms in more than a week but she knew for a fact that she was alone in her suffering. Maids and medics would appear every now and then throughout her bouts of consciousness and though she wasn't in the state of mind to notice, they would enter and mere seconds later, wipe away an involuntary trail of sweat from their brows (which was ridiculous—no one in the Fire Nation overheat, just as she _never_ felt the cold that had others bundled in layers of insulating covers). Two days into her ailment, those caring for her had wisely learned to shed their superfluous layers when attending to the Water Tribe ambassador.

And still, Katara lay shivering beneath heaps of the warmest, softest blankets that the royal palace had to offer. Her skin was paper than she'd ever been before with a cold sheen that gave her the appearance of finished ceramic. Her eyes were drawn and half lidded, her glassy gaze promising all that were graced with the rarity of her focus that she was looking but simply not seeing.

Her dreams, however, were the worst affliction of all. Hazardous and restless, as she floated in and out of sleep, she tossed and turned, feeling as though she were physically living through the images that passed behind her eyes. Colours were too bright and sounds too loud and yet despite her entire body fighting her, she was sure they were real. Somewhere she knew that it was all _wrong_ (and if she just woke up, she could _see_ that). But as she lay in her feverish haze, she was convinced they were more real than any day in her life until then.

And the thought terrified her more than she could justify in her less than lucid state.

When the cold had felt the sharpest, she had thrown her body about as if fighting off an attacker. She was restrained, the bite of cold metal on her wrists assured her. Her knees were in pain and when her blurred, rapid vision focused below her, she knew it was because of the harsh metal grating that bit into her flesh and bone. She was kneeling and as hard as she tried, she could not stand. She bucked wildly at the air (maybe she could jostle her hands free—for if her hands were free, she could escape—she could _attack_) but her efforts were proved futile. She was chained too closely to the grates below her and the awkward angle of her arms behind her was the most torturous feeling yet.

She was _humiliated_.

A roar ripped from her mouth and her face pulled with the sound. She thrashed around wildly, like a stallion that had yet to break. The scream caught in her throat, turning to a wail with the tears that poured down her cheeks and mixed, unseen, against her soaked skin.

She _refused_ to let the pitiful _peasant_ defeat her like this.

Though the hallucination had her screaming aloud and flailing in her sleep, relief came at last and she was able to stir herself into awareness long enough to drink the sedative jasmine tea that the medics brought her. (After all, it was _too_ outrageous a stretch of the imagination to believe that Aang would really swoop in on his glider and profess his undying love and devotion to the Fire Princess that Katara's mind told her she was—even going so far as to create her likeness in the clouds.)

And yet, as much of a terror as that dream had been, it held nothing against the dreams that gripped her throughout the remainder of the week without even the reprieve of waking to jostle her free.

She dreamed of blood—of swimming in it. The warm flush against her skin had been such a welcome feeling in her frozen state that she'd basked in the viscous liquid, ignoring even its sinister nature. When it retreated, she followed, seeking out its smooth and seductive lull. It pulled at her in return, promising comfort and safety and so—much—_power._

That was when her dream turned dark, but she was already held in the paralyzing warmth that she'd craved so fondly. Without her consent, she was shown what she _could_ have, dragged about in her memories like a limp phantom. She was returned to her confrontation with Jun in the Jasmine Dragon years before. The feeling had pulled at her even then, churning just beneath her finger tips and she had glimpsed a brief _taste_ of the electric power it warranted.

But she had been afraid.

She was brought to the memory of her mother's killer. The burning desire to feel the blood (to drain him of it) had nearly engulfed her, but she had been afraid and she had felt pity.

The men in the alley had been different. She had felt no pity or fear for their monstrous deeds. She'd felt only anger and disgust and the need to rise to their threat. She'd been overtaken by the dark, soothing kiss of power she'd before only dredged through with caution. She'd been gripped by the power and if she hadn't been disturbed…

And then the dream changed again. She was pulled through the ocean of blood faster than the wings of a humminglark could carry its lithe body. She was pulled by faces—adversaries from the beginning of her time. Before she could make a decision, she was before Jun once more, but this time the woman did not pick herself up from the ground.

Surrounded by the dark red liquid, the pale bounty hunter's skin slowly became stained crimson as her very life bloomed out through her eyes, her nose, her mouth and ears. Her eyes were pale and empty and Katara's thrummed with power—the woman did not pick herself up and Katara hadn't lifted a single finger.

Frozen in the sights before her, she was numb as she watched the same fate befall the others—Yon Rha as he stood before her mother in her final moments, the three men in the alley, Azula, Mai…bodies of people she'd never before met crashed around her, fallen victim to her immense _power_—

Zuko's golden eyes whirled before her and her heart thudded to a sudden and dead stop.

She reached out but it was too late. He fell back, his movements slow and hazed, and crimson seeped from his face and his breathing ceased. His eyes—so lively before—were hollow and she felt herself spinning and she was completely alone. Bodies of fallen lives lay in mounds before her, blanketed in the dark red sap. A metallic scent permeated her nostrils, filling her mouth and burning her sight. She stood on top of the _world_, and she stood alone.

Alone, but her _power_ was _stronger than ever_.

And then she was frozen once more and she'd gasped at the shocking change.

Her eyes sprung open. She lay in the dark and her breathing came in panicked spurts—_she had to know_.

Soft, warm hands ran across her frigid skin, soothing and kind—but she drew away at the touch as though she'd been burned. It was too fresh; still too _real_. Tears fell through her wide unseeing eyes and small whimpers escaped her mouth.

But then she was being turned, her numb yet aching body unable to do anything but succumb to the hands that held her and moved her to their will. Her eyes were fluttering but she would not close them and she cursed her lapse of vision.

The same soft hands that had comforted her when she'd jolted into awareness feathered over her cheeks, wiping at the salty trail that soiled them and she slowly came to realize that the hands—or rather their owner—were speaking to her in low, lulling tones.

"Shh, Katara. Calm down. You're alright. You're okay."

Her eyes focused at last in the darkness and her heart beat again, the fear drained from her by the sight of those soft golden eyes and the angry red scar and healing lips—lips that brushed against her forehead and along her damp hairline.

"Zuko," she murmured in relief. Her voice was weak and his name was but a weak moan on her lips.

"That's right," he said in that melodic, rasping tone. "You're safe." His arms tightened around her and she relished the sensation. "Don't cry. I'm right here."

She buried her face in his _warm_ neck (and though he was shocked by her icy touch, he did not shrink away) and an inaudible sigh left her.

"You're safe," she repeated over and over. He imagined she was repeating his own words to her, reassuring herself that she was free from some nightmare. And though it was true, it was not her own safety she was troubled with. His dead, blood soaked eyes stared at her through her memory (and the power _called _to her but she turned away) and her arms held tighter to his solid, _breathing,_ warm body.

"I'm so cold," she whispered in the dark of the night. His arms held her tighter still, cradling her to his chest, and their legs tangled. Though the room itself was sweltering, she felt cold like a pliant block of ice against him and he promised himself that he would stay until she was warm.

His nose tickled against her ear and a scant dusting of hair along his jaw sent shivers down her spine, but neither allowed their grip to slack.

"I'm here now," he promised her. "I'll keep you warm."

And as she drifted back into oblivion, for the first time in two long weeks, she didn't dream.

-/-/-

The Fire Nation was in a state of solemn tribute. White banners hung about the streets of the capitol city and the palace was adorned with fine white silk and servants and nobles alike walked slower than before and wore their best garments in white of varying fabrics. Even Zuko had donned the white robes that were deemed appropriate and now he stood before a large crowd of his citizens, peasants and nobles alike, and not a single word was uttered throughout the congregation.

It was odd to pay their respects to the man who had gone from a loved ruler to feared tyrant to his own people in so little time.

His speech had come to a stop as his words ran dry. There was only so much he could say on that day, and the awkward atmosphere was suffocating in ways that benders and nonbenders alike could not seem to escape.

Zuko turned away from them and with a sharp nod, the robed funeral attendants before him blasted flames towards the intricately detailed ceremonial casket that had been erected on the marble pedestal. The flames engulfed the white wood until at last it was no longer visible behind the bright fire and smoke.

He felt a pang of something deep in his gut. He supposed it may have been sadness—after all, the man _had_ been his father—but he couldn't suppress the feeling that he wasn't really sad at all. That maybe his only grievance in the late Fire Lord's passing was that he hadn't succeeded in his attempts to find the truth about his mother (because as he watched the burning pyre where his father's body was being incinerated, he worried that his very last chance was being released in the smoke that carried on the breeze).

The late Fire Lord Ozai had died in his sleep. Those watching over him had entered his cell the next morning to find him face down on the floor with his long, wild hair strewn about and when their fingers pressed against his neck to check for a pulse, it had long since gone cold. His madness had defeated him, they had told Zuko when the body was brought, cloaked in a white sheet, to the palace mortuary. He had finally withered away into an empty shell of a man and he had lost his will.

And though he believed it, Zuko had seen the singed flesh. He had seen the lacerations and the deep intrusions that had been inflicted on his father's mangled corpse. He'd been forbidden from seeing the body upon its arrival at the palace and his father's keepers had _conveniently_ kept the information from him. However, Zuko knew that something was amiss and the night before the funeral took place, he had confirmed his suspicions dressed in dark clothing as his feet carried him soundlessly through the palace corridors.

It was more than apparent that Ozai had not died of simple madness.

And though he'd lost all respect for the man he'd once called father years before, a spark ignited in his mind and Zuko found himself determined to uncover the truth of his father's demise for himself.

-/-/-

He'd stopped remembering their names long before.

The dim lighting of the parlour was meant to give a mysterious air to his female prospects, but instead he found it to be off putting and murky. It cast odd flickering shadows across the face of the woman sitting before him. It brought to light the childish curve of her cheeks and the hollow rings beneath her eyes that had been pampered and smeared with paste and powder to conceal their dark hue. The candle light did her boring eyes no justice even when they caught the flame and her hair was lackluster and flat.

Even the woman's expression was dull and unappealing. (He was reminded of Mai after her mother's rearing had frightened her into a life of submissive obedience—and when his mind drifted to a cave deep in the desert and wondered at her fate, he immediately pushed the thought down. It was neither the time nor the place, even if the upsetting issue intrigued him more than whoever it was that sat before him now.)

A soft hum that had filled the room stopped and Zuko realized that the sound had been the woman talking. At the change, his eyes snapped away from the candle he'd been watching melt and he looked at her, correcting himself from his slumped posture.

The look she gave him was a mixture of annoyance and hurt and disappointment—he'd seen that look before.

Zuko cleared his throat. "I'm sorry—could you repeat that?"

She didn't roll her eyes, but her head tilted in a manner that exuded the same feeling. "With all due respect, your highness, I would much rather not repeat everything I've said during the half hour that you've found yourself fascinated by more mundane matters."

His mouth pulled into a slight scowl that only those who knew him personally would interpret as such. "I do apologize for my distracted behavior. As Fire Lord, political matters can tend to be quite wearing and it's unfortunately simply reality to become preoccupied." It was a lie—with the country and colonies in a calm state of peace for the time being, he hadn't bothered with political matters for the better part of a month.

The woman nodded in a show of understanding—but he could read people better than most. The look in her eyes suggested a probing nature. "May I speak frankly, your highness?"

It was an odd request. He'd been staring back at the small glittering flames, but at her words, he drew his attention back to her—_Agni_, what was her _name_? Zuko nodded, though he could barely find his interest to be sincere.

The woman crossed her hands across her lap in a tight, business-like attitude and her chin tilted higher—and he couldn't help but note that it did nothing for the plump shape of her face. "There are whispers growing louder about our nation that you have no intention to marry."

Zuko found himself torn between amusement and annoyance. He had never been tolerant of needless gossip, but the idea that his subjects had caught on to his defiance before his own advisors was definitely entertaining. Nevertheless, his eyebrow quirked and his voice droned with flat indifference. "Is that so?"

She nodded—her obvious interest in the gossip among nobility was almost tangible. "There are many theories as to why. Would you like to hear them?"

At that, Zuko turned up his nose. His compulsion to leave the room grew as the woman inched close to him on her couch, eyes wide and enthralled with whatever tales she'd heard (it was exactly one of the things he hated most about noblewomen). "No."

In fact, Zuko was more than sure he'd live a perfectly content life never hearing the rumours.

But the woman scooted toward him on the cushioned seat, a strange smile stretching her thin lips. It was threatening in ways he couldn't imagine, and Zuko leaned away from her impeding presence. "I think you'll find them _most_ interesting, your highness," she insisted. But Zuko merely looked away in distaste.

"If I develop a taste for petty rumours, I will make sure you are the first to know." Not that it was a promise with any truth—he couldn't even remember her _name_.

This time when the woman moved herself even closer, Zuko stood and walked to the opposite side of the room, staring at the flames. Her entire persona had changed from someone dull and monotonous to a predatory _thing_ that was watching him with sharp eyes, waiting for the precise moment to release her claws. He wasn't sure what that would entail, but neither was he anxious to find out.

She shifted so that she was sitting, her legs crossed before her in a long cascade of flowing skirts, her fingers intertwined on her knees. The sharp breath she took was full of suspense, as though she were hoping he would buy into her baiting. "I think you'd be quite interested in hearing them. Some of them cast you in a rather shady role—some say your ambition is greater than your power, and that your quest for unity among the nations is really just a ruse. There are even a few that liken you quite drastically to the late Phoenix King."

His eyes narrowed sharply. "I am nothing like my father," he spat. Any respect he'd held for the woman (which wasn't much, as he didn't know her from any other stranger on the street) was instantly squashed with her words and his previous compulsion to take his leave wasn't simply a passing contemplation.

For the first time since the dreadful _interviews_ had began, Zuko threw open the door and stalked out without a single word to the woman left inside. He didn't extend the courtesy of promising her an escort and he didn't dispassionately wish her fair travels or a nice day, but neither did he regret his rude departure in the least.

His father had been a monster—his _family_, save for his mother and Iroh and he supposed a sparse few from generations past, had been monsters.

He was nothing like his father. Ozai was cruel and heartless and too ambitious for his means to secure. He'd _burnt_ his own son for speaking out at the age of thirteen, and then banished him to a life of pain and a blinded sense of guilt. Ozai had killed without reason or contemplation simply to increase his power and fear during his reign. Zuko had killed, but where Ozai had smiled as he watched his victims drain of life, Zuko felt remorse—remorse that he had been driven to it. He was never proud of the dark deeds he had done, but he also had never acted out of his own pride.

He would never be like his father—that was a sure fact. He'd made Aang promise that if he were ever to _become_ like Fire Lord Ozai, that the young Avatar would take his life (not simply hinder his bending, but _take his life_ permanently). Aang had agreed only after a long contemplated nod from Katara that it was his duty as the Avatar.

Zuko sought peace and believed wholeheartedly in the prospect of an era governed not by fear or hate, but by respect and tolerance. Ozai had reveled in the sinister nature of war; had _thrived_ on the supremacy that his grandfather had instilled in his mind at a young age. He truly believed that it was his _birthright_ to rule the entire world from a grand palace, with loyal subjects from every corner of the globe (and a swift but merciless end to any who rebelled against him). Zuko had watched from the sidelines and as he grew older and more mature, there was no doubt on his mind that if his father's dream had come to pass, even his own trusted troops wouldn't be safe from his vicious ways for long—after all, his own _wife and son_ hadn't even escaped his wrath.

He was so lost in his own torrential thoughts that he hadn't even seen Katara walking the same path as him until he knocked right into her. Luckily, his reflexes had caught her before she went clamoring to the hard floor, but the cup of tea she'd been cradling so fondly shattered on impact, splashing weak lukewarm tea across the rug (it crossed his mind in passing to wonder why she'd been carrying her tea through the halls rather than sitting to enjoy it in her rooms).

He meant to apologize. He held her at a length, far enough that he'd been able (just barely) to prevent her from falling but close enough that he could smell the fresh scent of her skin and her wet hair. It had been nine days since her fever had finally broken (and he'd held her through the night) but she was still recovering and he hadn't seen her since then. She wore dressing robe of fine orange silk and her feet were bare and the dark shadows and pale tint of her exotic skin were the only indicators that she wasn't yet feeling completely healed—but at least she wasn't shivering as she had been before. She looked at him in surprise.

He had meant to apologize, but Zuko had never been very suave with his timing and even less-so with his words. Instead of an apology, he'd blurted out the first thought that came into his mind—and he'd said it so quickly (so completely devoid of any words leading up to it or related context) that he had to replay his own words over three times in his head before he was sure he'd really said it. Katara's eyes had gone wide, curiously, and her lips parted with a sharp intake, but she didn't look angry or upset and she hadn't run away so he took that as a good sign.

He'd meant to apologize, but instead Zuko asked breathlessly, "Will you marry me?"

-/-/-

It was eight years after Sozin's Comet last streaked across the sky, and it was the eighth year following the end of the Hundred Year War.

In the northwest corner of the Earth Kingdom, a war had broken out. What had been a small rebellion among colonials had grown into a full-fledged blood battle among benders and nonbenders alike, Earth Kingdom citizens and Fire Nation colonials. It had fledged on for four months before the Fire Lord had been informed of the upheaval and immediately traveled to the site to meet with the local Earth Kingdom governor to help put an end to it.

Despite their attempts at peace, the fighting had carried out for three more months. The casualties had been brutal, wiping out a large percent of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom citizens alike. At last, both sides had recognized the damage they were inflicting on their homes, and peaceful negotiations had proceeded. Small attacks still flared up throughout the area, but once the mediators had come to an agreement, the bloodshed dwindled down to nothing. It wasn't until the region was stable that Zuko departed to return home. The war officially ended on the eighth anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War.

Three weeks after departing the Earth Kingdom, the royal fleet pulled into port in the Capitol City bay. Cheers met the Fire Lord as his processional made its way into the palace and though it was a welcoming change, Zuko could feel nothing but tired even as he walked through the palace halls en route to his quiet office where he had placed the order to remain undisturbed the rest of the day.

That morning as the sun rose from his ship over the crescent island, it had marked not only his arrival home, but also the start of his twenty-sixth year—his birthday. He'd lost interest in the idea of celebrating during his prolonged time abroad and brushed off his advisors who insisted that a banquet be held in honour of the date.

He was in no mood for festivities.

The door to his office creaked as it opened and Katara's deep blue eyes met his at the sound. He'd grown used to this—whenever he traveled abroad, she would be waiting for him with a tray of tea, ears eager to hear of his trip, and caring words. But this time, there was no tea and Katara was pacing back and forth in front of his expansive desk. Her hand clutched tightly at the blue gem that was once her mother's and he watched her intake of breath. He closed the door behind him and his eyes didn't leave hers during the quiet that followed—he swore his heart had beat more than two hundred times.

The air felt as though it was charged by lightning and at last Katara broke the silence. "I don't want you to ask me again."

It took him a moment to realize what she'd been referring to—he couldn't recall having asked her anything recently; then he realized that the last time they'd spoken was three months prior before he'd departed for the Earth Kingdom in the hall outside her room when he'd spilled her tea and _asked her_.

His pride bit him deep, like the venomous fangs of a badgersnake. He felt his hands tighten at his side, hidden by the sleeves of his robe. "I wasn't going to," he ground out, suddenly more eager to be _alone_ than he had been mere moments before.

Katara looked down a moment, somewhere to the side, and fear gripped his stomach—_he messed up_. He hadn't even _meant_ to ask her in the first place, and now he'd messed up too greatly to salvage. He was angry and scared and frozen in place and he watched her swallow. _She was going to leave_.

But something about that thought wasn't right—when she finally looked up at him, there was a light gleaming in her eyes, setting her whole face aglow (she looked healthy again, and the glow made her seem more radiant than he could remember ever seeing her appear). Then suddenly she was smiling and he couldn't understand why.

"Zuko—my answer is yes."


	13. Chapter 13

**I hope this chapter isn't as bumpy as it felt to me.**

* * *

_It happened almost four years earlier._

_She had kissed him first._

_It was so long ago that she could hardly remember—and he didn't remember __**at all**__. They were staying in Ba Sing Se with Toph, Aang, and the young airbender named Dhara that had begged them to take her along with them as they departed the underground city of Ijaz. It had been a long journey—longer than Katara could remember having traveled since the end of the war—and by the time they arrived within the relaxing walls of the Jasmine Dragon, they had all agreed that a small retreat to recover would do much good._

_More than happy to receive so many guests, Uncle Iroh had sent to work immediately. He'd hired a cook to prepare the finest meals in celebration (and whether the celebration was in honour of the Avatar's safe return or simply that he finally had __**guests**__, it was impossible to tell.). He'd brewed enough tea to drown the upper ring of the city and was sorely disappointed when each of his young visitors declined to drink with him, instead going off about their own business._

_Aang had been beside himself, elated with the discovery of another airbender. The exotic, fair-haired woman answered all his questions and listened to all his ramblings with a small smile—though on the inside, she was just as excited as he, especially when he promised that they would practice their bending together ( she'd finally have someone to __**teach**__ her). The Avatar insisted on showing her all around the city (when he'd started gushing about the zoo outside the wall, Toph had huffed in annoyance and conceded to partake in teatime with the elderly shop keeper after all) and he'd all but ran out the door, pulling her by the skin of her fingers behind him through the bustling streets. _

_Katara hadn't noticed until then the grim set of the blind earthbender's mouth and once she did, more antics began to show themselves—Toph stomped just a little louder than usual but her strides were slower than before. Her words, though usually quick and sharp witted, were clipped shorter than before and her tone lacked the edge that usually sliced so accurately into pride and joy alike. It wasn't obvious (she'd even asked Zuko if he thought something was amiss and he hadn't observed what Katara swore was there) but Katara noticed the small signs. When she noticed the girl perk up at the sound of Aang's entrance and fall back at that of Dhara's soft responses, she decided it was worth asking about—but as she'd expected, Toph simply laughed harshly in her face and assured her, 'Why wouldn't I be fine?'_

_And she wasn't sure she quite believed her, but Katara let the subject drop._

_Three days into their stay as she was still mulling over the strange behavior of her old friend, Zuko had pulled her aside (away from the table at which she sat with a perfect view of Iroh and Toph chatting in low tones). She was annoyed that he'd disrupted her reconnaissance, but once he laid his request before her, she felt honoured and humbled. He had been sent a summons from Earth King Kuei who had heard he was visiting the city and he asked her to go with him—and given that he'd spent the greater part of that day pacing holes into the stone floor of the tea shop and was obviously nervous, she willingly agreed._

_It was nowhere near as bad as he'd made it out to be, she realized. The Earth King was an odd character—when he'd received word that the Fire Lord was in his city, he'd jumped with excitement at the idea of having dinner guests that he could serve a fancy, proper meal (it was beyond obvious to Katara that Earth King Kuei was gravely desperate for some company)._

_Dinner guests—that was all. There was no speak of diplomacy or treaties or foreign threats or post-war reparation demands. There was soup and there was roasted goose and there were dozens of platters of rice and steamed vegetables and pastries but there was no serious conversation what-so-ever._

_And yet, not even half an hour into their meal, Zuko had managed to drink himself silly trying to ebb his irrational nerves. By the time Katara was able to respectfully excuse them from the Earth King's residence, he was too far gone to even remember where they were. She'd had her fair share to drink as well, but as it turned out, the firebender had drunk enough to inebriate a man three times his stature._

_And that hadn't make for an easy walk back to Iroh's apartment._

_One minute he was sagging heavily against her with his hot breath blowing against her ear while he tried to focus on his shoes, and the next he was bounding ahead with all the grace of a one-footed ostrich-horse (she stopped counting how many times she had to sprint to catch him before he took a dive down stone steps or ran head first into a brick wall)._

_As strong as she was, when Zuko was determined he made whatever it was that he wanted happen—and his determination and intoxicated state easily overpowered her fatigued arms keeping him on his feet. And it seemed that he was determined, then, to slump awkwardly against a wall in the middle of a dark square. And she couldn't do anything but stare down at him as he hugged his knees to his chest and stared up at her with eyes that were looking __**too closely**__ for comfort according to the fuzzy edges of her mind._

_She shifted on her feet then (trying to get the blood to flow back into her sleepy, numb toes) and she wondered how long he'd been sitting there, just staring up at her silently._

"_What is it?" she finally asked. The realization hit her slowly that it was __**late**__ and they needed to get back before the city peace officers had them arrested for curfew breach—or rather, they'd more likely take them in for public displays of drunkenness._

_His fingers reached out and plucked at the delicate pink ribbon hanging down from the front of her dress and his lips pulled into a pout. "You know you're my best friend, don't you?"_

_Katara frowned then. "Of course I know that, Zuko. And you're my best friend, too."_

"_But I mean it, Katara. It's not the same." The ribbon fell from his fingers, limp, and floated back into its place beside the purples and blush coloured silk that drowned her body. His arms crossed overtop his knees and for a second, he was mumbling into his elbow. "You're my best friend, but you have lots of friends. I just have you."_

_She crouched down to his level and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Where did you go getting a crazy idea like that, Zuko? You have lots of friends, too—you've got Sokka and Toph and Aa—"_

_Zuko shook his head and swatted her hand away. "No—you don't __**get**__ it, 'Tara. You've had friends forever and you'll always have friends that will stick by you. I've never been good with having friends—the closest thing I really ever had to a friend was my cousin or my sister and you saw how __**that**__ turned out."_

"_Don't talk like that."_

"_It's true." The firebender's golden eyes were fluttering and Katara wondered (and feared) if he was drifting away into the realm of dreams. He snatched her hand before she could even register that he'd __**moved**__ and he pulled her to him. It was an awkward embrace as his knees were pressed uncomfortably into her chest and hers scraping through thick fabric into the ground beneath and she found it difficult to breathe with his hands holding her face into his shoulder, but she knew it was sincere nonetheless. "You're my best friend."_

_She pushed herself away from him and brushed the dust and dirt away from her dress as she stood. "I know, Zuko. It's time to—"_

"_And you're really, really pretty, too. So that makes you the __**best**__ best friend __**ever**__." He was smiling to himself and his eyes didn't meet hers—she laughed at him softly, and the sound jolted him back to the present. His eyes burned into hers. "I wouldn't be able to do anything without you."_

_(She didn't know it, but in that second Zuko thought that it was his best idea __**yet**__ to fire his advisors and have her replace the lot of them because she was much wiser and better and prettier and smarter than they could ever be—and he'd just write that out as soon as he got back to his room and then in the morning he'd send the notice out first thing. Yes, it was brilliant.)_

_Katara's cheeks stained pink and she brushed her hair back behind her ear in humbled embarrassment. "That's not true, Zuko. You'd be just fine without me. You're a wonderful Fire Lord."_

"_No." She was alarmed at the volume he managed to expel the word with ("Shh, Zuko, not so loud!") and even more surprised when he moved, seemingly trying to push himself to his feet. He failed, and ended up just giving up and sitting with his back against the stone wall like he'd been for spirits-knows-how-long already. His hair fell away from his eyes as he watched her standing above him, and his brow was set in a __**no-funny-business**__ way that assured them both that he __**knew what he was talking about**__._

"_I'm serious, 'Tara. I'd be lost without you. I'd get so consumed with my work that I'd forget there was a world out here to explore. I'd go insane like my father and sister or I'd just wear myself down and die in my study under stacks of papers and treaties and reports and I'd be miserable."_

_He shook his head then and took a deep breath—in her tipsy mind, she'd meshed all his quickly sputtered words into one singular word and it took her a moment to separate them and construe their meaning._

_Then Katara smiled a little. "You're always miserable, Zuko."_

_She'd meant it as a light-hearted jibe, but he just nodded in earnest agreement. "Yeah. But you make me less miserable." _

_It wasn't magnificent or unforgettable. She bent at the waist and kissed him softly, soundly, without even a thought otherwise. Her hair curtained around them, falling in both their faces and she used her arm to hold it away as he kissed her gently back. Then his hand was on her shoulder, pushing her away, and she was standing straight again and didn't move for what seemed to be the longest moment. Then his eyes snapped back open and __**she**__ was all he saw._

"_Why'd you do that?" He looked honestly confused, and she kicked herself for finding it as adorable as she did._

_Why __**did**__ she do that?_

_Katara rubbed her arms. She wasn't cold, but suddenly she felt awkward and embarrassed and she swore-to-Tui that if he was mad at her (because he __**had**__ pushed her away) then she was just going to high-tail it away from there (he'd find his way back to the Jasmine Dragon eventually and even if he didn't, Toph would find him in the morning.)._

"_I don't know. I just wanted to."_

_And suddenly he was grinning smugly and clamoring his way back up that damn obstacle of a wall. "You like me," he accused. He took a shaky step towards her and she took one back and her face was __**burning**__ brighter than Sozin's comet. Her heart beat out of control._

"_I didn't say that." They were still walking against each other in a dance of avoidance and suddenly her hips slammed back against a railing to one of the many small foot bridges around the city. When his arms boxed her in, she looked down (why wouldn't her face stop __**burning**__, spirits damn it?). "You just make me less miserable, too," she mumbled down at her shoes._

"…_Oh." He moved back a pace (and she was so grateful for it, because their bodies had been pressing in an almost __**intimate**__ way that clouded her senses) but his arms retained the shape of bars boxing her in. "Well…will you do it again?"_

_She finally looked up at him. She didn't remember when her hands had migrated to clutch at the tails of his vest, but he was all-too-aware of it. Katara's brows crinkled in confusion. "Do what?"_

"_Kiss me." And this time when he grinned, she was swept away to a time when they were younger and still had time to be teenagers from time to time. Katara gulped and shook her head, and this time it was he that wore a mask of confusion. "Why not?"_

"_Because—you're drunk." It was true, but it was also her excuse (she couldn't let him see how exposed her heart was, because she'd avoided it __**so well**__ up until then)._

"_You're drunk too."_

_She nodded. "Exactly. I don't want to kiss you when you're drunk and I'm drunk."_

_Zuko mulled over that for what felt like such a long time, but then he stepped back and he was smiling again and she was free to step away from him—not that she did, though. He scratched the back of his neck and she tried her damndest not to be stricken breathless by the way he tilted his head and looked at her._

_**Spirits, how much had she really had to drink?**_

"_Will you kiss me when we're not drunk, then?"_

_A breathe she didn't know she was holding in (it felt relieved, though she supposed maybe it was just the absence of nerves) burst from her lips and turned into a little, tinkling laugh. She grabbed his warm hand and their fingers twined together effortlessly. "Tomorrow. I'll kiss you tomorrow."_

_And when he told her that he would very much like that, she didn't voice how much she agreed. The pair seemed to take hours as they stumbled their way back to the tea shop in the Upper Ring and they bid each other good night and sweet dreams before their heads hit their own respective pillows and they slept away the events that had transpired. When they woke up (perhaps too early, if the drumming in their skulls had any say about it) they didn't remember the night before or the promise whispered in dark city streets. But the fact didn't bother them, because how could they be upset about a promise that neither remembered being made in the first place?_

_That tomorrow passed without a kiss, and years worth of tomorrows passed before that changed._

_But the fact still remained: she __**had**__ kissed him first._

-/-/-

The officer paced in front of her briskly. His hands were folded behind his back and his posture was rigid. He'd removed his helmet when they'd gotten to the room she was being held in and without the impaired vision, he kept swiveling his head at the end of every stride to give her a harsh look (but she could see the truthful nerves jumping frantically behind the façade).

He stopped pacing. His foot caught under the bar of the wooden chair she was seated in and the sudden jerk had her slammed against the wall, propped up by two unsteady wooden legs. His palm slapped against the cold metal behind her and he glowered down.

"This is your last chance. Tell me why you're here."

Even though she was incredibly uncomfortable, she couldn't help but laugh at the oblivious man. "I really would rather not."

The chair was loud as it slammed back onto the floor—Katara shook her head to expel the rattling effect that the motion had on her bones. The officer was pacing again, fingers worrying his oddly styled salt-and-pepper hair.

"I don't think you understand the severity of your situation, miss." If she wasn't mistaken, he was _growling_ at her (she bit her lip to keep her laughter at bay).

"You'd find yourself surprised, then."

A burst of flame rushed past her ear and Katara's eyes widened at the sudden heat. That was unexpected.

The Officer continued to glare at her as though she might extinguish like a candle flame under his smothering gaze—but anyone who knew Katara knew better than to think such ludicris things. "The _Fire Lord_ is on his way here. He has a zero tolerance policy for _stowaways_," he spat the word as if it were poisonous to him. "If you don't want to end up thrown overboard like the last two, then I suggest you cooperate. And quickly."

What he apparently didn't know was that if she was to be thrown overboard, she would have the upper hand _unlike_ the last two. She blinked her silent amusement at him and wasn't surprised to see his frustration beginning to take reins. Just as he was about to open his mouth (no doubt to say something else that would point to his foolish ignorance), the door behind him burst open and light flooded the room, blinding her momentarily. A tall dark figure stepped through the doorway and Katara smiled.

"Hello, your highness."

The waterbender wasn't ashamed to admit she'd been surprised when he rolled his eyes at her. "Hello, darling." He walked into the center of the small room that was serving as a holding cell and stared down the confounded officer. "You may go now, Officer Yao. You did well informing me of this security breach."

The officer looked between the Fire Lord and the young woman in the chair and Katara could nearly see the word _'darling'_ swirling around his addled mind. "Sir, are you sure—"

"I would like to have words with the _stowaway_"—he cast her a sidelong glare—"alone. That was an order." The shorter man immediately straightened at the show of supremacy and he bowed before stalking out of the room without a glance back. Zuko took his time closing the loud door and when he did, the room was bathed in darkness. The candles seemed to match his steady breath, waning as he inhaled and flaring as he exhaled. Time seemed to move very slowly as he continued to appraise her with a quirked brow, his arms crossed over his chest imposingly.

"Are you going to untie me?" She asked at last. Her wrists wriggled in their restraints and burned as they rubbed against the rope that bound her.

"You've put me in a very compromising situation, did you know that?" His voice was drawling but it rung with authority and Katara shivered slightly at the underlying threatening implications of his words. Zuko stalked forward until his shadow completely enveloped her form. "Naval laws strictly state that I am required to put every stowaway through an extensive interrogation process—for international security reasons, you see—before either swearing them into a lifetime of service or releasing them to the mercy of the rhino-sharks."

He pulled up a chair and sunk into it, facing her with his fingers scratching thoughtfully at the rough stubbles of hair that made him look rugged and dangerous when paired with the vivid scar marring his left eye. "You can understand my hesitancy, I'm sure."

Katara's mouth fell open in disbelief and the sound that fell from her lips was _almost_ a laugh. "You're joking, right?"

He'd gotten very good at hiding his amusement. Zuko stared blankly at her and his face gave away _nothing_ (and he was rather beginning to enjoy the way she squirmed in her seat as her eyes began to dart about nervously). He leant forward and clasped his hands together. "I don't understand what about this situation I would find humourous. I take the security of my crew and the nations I am traveling to conduct business with _very_ seriously. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed thieves or assassins or spies to stowaway on my ship without repercussion?"

A very irresponsible one. And Zuko was _not_ irresponsible.

"But I'm not a thief or a spy."

A small smirk graced his face. "So you're an assassin then? That's quite ambitious. I had thought your intentions were pure, but I can see now that you're a woman after my heart in more than one way."

Katara threw her head back with her groan. "_Zuko_. Would you just let me go already? I'm not out to endanger your mission in any way. I just wanted to come along."

"Katara, some rules are meant to be." In the snap of a finger, he was back to acting the ever-serious, regal Fire Lord and all traces of teasing that had been so prevalent seconds before vanished as if it never existed at all.

"Yes, but most rules are meant to be _broken_." She smiled wide, hoping to illicit a less severe reaction from him—but to no avail.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Listen, Katara—I know you're not a fan of _rules_, but these are important. If I didn't maintain order on my own ship, there would be chaos and mutiny. How am I to successfully rule a country if I cannot even command my own ship?"

Katara huffed. "I don't understand see the problem here. I'm _not_ compromising the security of your mission—"

"Even as the Fire Lady—to be, in this case—you're not immune from the legal system. If you get yourself into trouble (even if it's something as menial as being caught as a stowaway) I won't always be able to get you out of it, and you can't count on your title to save you either."

"I can handle myself," she grumbled.

"The fact remains that you've deliberately disrespected my request for you to remain in the capitol."

"So you just don't _want_ me here?"

"No—I mean, yes—well—" Zuko growled and burst from his seat and took to pacing just as Officer Yao had been doing before he showed up. She watched as his long strides took up the entirety of the room with ease and she wished she could do something about the tense set of his jaw and shoulders. At last he stilled and his hand ran through his raven hair (was that a nervous habit with all Fire Nation men?—and when had his hair gotten so _long_?). His eyes burned into hers. "I love you. I want you here—but I had thought you understood that it was important for you to remain in the capitol to continue your duty as ambassador even in my absence."

"I told you that I wanted to go with you—"

"And I expressed that I felt _strongly_ against it." She tried to ignore how her heart pounded when he slid to his knees before her and rested his hands on her thighs (it wasn't even a gesture meant for intimacy; he was doing it to emphasize the impact of his words). It was unnerving to her how he barely blinked when he was lecturing as he was now. "Katara, in the Fire Nation, we value respect greatly especially within a marriage—don't start with me. I understand that the Water Tribe values respect as well; that's not my point. My point is that as your fiancé, I asked you to remain where you were, because your political influence is _needed_ there now, and you disrespected that."

She suddenly looked about as angry as a frothing wolf-cobra. "So this is about power?"

"No, this is about respect. I won't be the tyrannical husband that my father was—not to mention his father and no doubt his father before them. But I won't be a spineless jellyfish either, and I don't expect you to be." He ran a hand across her cheek, his thumb running fondly along the curve of her lips. "Our marriage especially is about a partnership _as well_ as our love. I expect that you will respect my wishes (at least those regarding duty such as this) and I will happily respect yours. If you ask me to jump, I'll ask how high but I promise I'll always try to make it to the stars instead."

He'd pluck the stars straight from the sky for her—and her heart swelled at the sentiment.

Katara sighed. "I'm sorry." She hadn't realized, when she'd snuck aboard, that her actions would have such a heavy and complicated meaning behind them, but she also hadn't been thinking as an ambassador so much as she had been thinking like an adventurer once more.

Zuko pulled her head forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Luckily for you, I won't feed you to the rhino-sharks. And I don't have any more room on my crew, so it looks like you've won yourself a short vacation."

His idea of a vacation involved sandy beaches and clear blue skies. The fact that they were heading to the arctic Northern Water Tribe proved that they had _very_ different ideas of what a vacation was.

Zuko was on his feet and his hand was on the door when Katara spoke up. "Zuko?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"Are you going to untie me?" She wriggled a bit in her restraint, as if suddenly there would be a flaw in the tightly done knots.

His eyes trailed over her form from the bright blue pools that were her eyes to the tip of her furry boots and he smirked.

"No. I think I like this."

The door closed loudly behind him.


End file.
